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AN INTRODUCTION TO
SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY
VOLUME ONE
AN INTRODUCTION TO
SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY
RALPH PIDDINGTON, m.a.,ph.d.
PROFESSOR OF ANTHROPOLOGY, AUCKLAND UNIVERSITY
COLLEGE, UNIVERSITY OF NEW ZEALAND
VOLUME ONE
OLIVER AND BOYD
EDINBURGH: TWEEDDALE COURT
LONDON.* 39A WELBECK STREET, W.I
FIRST PUBLISHED
SECOND EDITION
REPRINTED
• 1950
• 1952
i960, 1963
PRINTED AND BOUND IN ENGLAND BY
HAZELL WATSON AND VINEY LTD
AYLESBURY, BUCKS
TO THE MEMORY OF
A. B. PIDDINGTON
Broken is the shelter
Of my father
Lost to sight
You were the true maru , 1 generous to the
common folk.
From a Tikopia dirge , translated by Raymond Firth
1 A public official in Tikopia.
PREFACE
/. Problems of Presentation
The present work is designed to introduce beginners, particularly
University undergraduates, to the science of Social Anthropology.
Such students experience difficulties — especially in regard to
terminology — in their initial studies, and misleading impressions
are all too easily created on first acquaintance with the unfamiliar,
complex and bewildering facts of primitive life. I have tried to
overcome some of the initial difficulties and to avoid the creation
of wrong impressions, but in the nature of the case I cannot claim
to have been fully successful.
My main problem of presentation has been how far the treat-
ment of primitive cultures should be intensive or extensive. As
regards the former, it would only be possible in a work of this size
to deal at all adequately with about four or five cultures. As
every anthropologist knows, such intensive studies constitute the
only means by which a full appreciation of the reality and com-
plexity of individual cultures can be gained. On the other hand
my teaching experience has made me keenly aware of the dangers
of such an approach in the case of elementary students. They are
apt to gain the impression that there are at most about a dozen
primitive cultures in the world, bounded on the north by the
Tallensi and on the south by Tikopia.
This danger can only be forestalled by an extensive treatment
of a comparative kind, but this in its turn has even more grave
disadvantages. The cursory treatment of a wide variety of
cultures does justice to none, and since the detailed discussion of
functional interrelationships is necessarily excluded gives a
thoroughly unscientific picture of primitive culture.
I have attempted to compromise by stating general principles
— both descriptive and analytical — with, for the most part,
cursory illustration only and by indulging from time to time in
digressions in which bodies of ethnographic data are treated in
greater detail. But it must be emphasized that even the latter
discussions are very much attenuated, as the reader may and
should gather by reference to the original sources.
vii
PREFACE
viii
One of my greatest difficulties of presentation has been the
order in which I should place the material contained in the
Cooks’ Tour of Primitive Peoples on the one hand, and the
material in the chapters on Social Organization on the other.
The abstract principles of organization involved in the latter
remain nebulous until the student has some superficial knowledge
of primitive cultures in concrete terms. On the other hand the
latter type of description, if endless circumlocution is to be
avoided, implies some knowledge of technical terms used in
ethnographic description. The necessary disadvantages of the
order of presentation which I have adopted will be to some
extent offset if the reader follows the advice contained in Section
3 of this preface.
As regards terminology I have tried to include most of the
technical terms necessary to an understanding of this book and also
to further reading. Those familiar with the classic controversies
about the meaning of such terms as “clan”, “bride-price”,
“law”, “function” and so on, will realize that anthropologists
are still far from an agreed, consistent and comprehensive
system of terminology. No statement on the use of terms, there-
fore, can command universal agreement. I have tried to present a
reasonably consistent system of terminology which comes as close
as possible to current usage. Other teachers will indicate to their
students the extent to which their use of certain terms differs from
mine, and more important still, the theoretical implications of
such differences.
2. Note for the Teacher
Any treatment of ethnographic material, unless it is to be a
mere inventory of cultural traits, must be founded upon a
theoretical system of interpretation. But anthropology, like
psychology or any other relatively young science, is characterized
by the existence of several schools of thought, and even the
individual adherents of these differ from each other on questions
of theoretical interpretation. Thus though most British anthropo-
logists might be classed as “functionalists”, many of them would
disagree, to a greater or lesser extent, with my interpretation of
this term. Broadly, as applied to British anthropology, the term
“functionalism” refers to two quite distinct trends of thought, with
many intermediate theoretical interpretations. The first use of the
term refers to a type of interpretation which has its roots in the
PREFACE
IX
sociological system of Durkheim and which was first applied in
ethnographic interpretation by Professor Radcliffe-Brown in his
study of the Andaman Islanders, a point of view which he has
elaborated in subsequent writings mentioned in the biblio-
graphy. This school of thought, which regards social structure
rather than culture as the subject-matter of social anthropology,
is being increasingly referred to as “structural” rather than
“functional”.
The second use of the term “functionalism” refers primarily to
the theoretical system of the late Bronislaw Malinowski, and it is
in this sense that the word is used in this book. It may be
added that the present writer finds no inconsistency or confusion
in the apparently different senses in which Malinowski uses the
term “function”. They are all related to, and comprehensible
in terms of, his theory of needs. This theory again is regarded by
many anthropologists as unnecessary to cultural analysis. At
this point I will merely state my view that the postulate of human
needs, whether overtly stated as such or not, is implicit in all
satisfactory cultural analyses; that it is a theoretical concept
necessary to bring social anthropology into relationship with the
other social sciences, particularly psychology; and finally that it
is absolutely essential to the constructive contributions which the
anthropologist should make to human welfare. If one accepts
Professor Lancelot Hogben’s definition of the function of science
as being to provide recipes for human conduct, then some
scientifically elaborated system of values is indispensable, and the
theory of needs provides such a system.
I propose to deal with these theoretical points elsewhere, since
an elementary text-book is not the place for such a discussion. I
prefer to state my point of view, which is based upon an accept-
ance of Malinowski’s theory of needs, quite dogmatically,
referring the reader in my bibliographical commentaries to state-
ments of divergent views and critical analyses.
Though the present volume provides a general introduction to
the subject, in which most aspects of primitive culture are men-
tioned if not fully discussed, I have found it necessary to defer to
the second volume, to be published at a later date, the detailed
consideration of some of the more general aspects of culture —
geographical environment, material culture and the life cycle and
psychology of the individual, as well as the discussion of culture
contact and the application of anthropological methods to the
X PREFACE
study of modern communities. A discussion of these more special-
ized problems cannot be undertaken without a general knowledge
of primitive culture and a grounding in the principles of cultural
analysis such as I have attempted to provide in the present volume.
3. Mote for the Student
How to read this book : As you have gathered from" the beginning
of this Preface, I have tried to minimize initial difficulties without
giving an over-simplified or superficial impression of what
primitive cultures are like. If social anthropology is an absolutely
new subject to you, and particularly if you come to it direct from
“school” subjects in which teaching has long since become rela-
tively systematized and standardized, you will probably experi-
ence difficulty in acquiring that flair for relevance which is
essential to the really competent anthropologist. You may perhaps
flounder about in the following pages, uncertain as to what you
should memorize, how far you should concentrate on facts about
primitive peoples compared with theoretical principles, and so on.
At the risk of appearing didactic I propose to offer some hints as
to how this book may most profitably be read. If you find them
trite or unhelpful, you can skip over them and plunge immedi-
ately into the body of the text.
I think that you will gain most from this book if you do not
attempt to read it straight through as you normally do with a
text-book, but adopt the following plan: First read through
Chapter I so that you have a reasonably clear idea of the scope of
our subject. But you should at this stage skip or read cursorily
Sections 7 and 8 of this chapter, the significance of which you will
not fully appreciate until your reading is more advanced. In this
and subsequent chapters you will find certain terms in bold type
— it is important that you should try to master the meaning of
these terms, which are of special significance for your under-
standing of the subject and in the further reading which you will
do. You need not pay so much attention to technical terms in
ordinary italic type.
After reading Chapter I, you should skim through Chapters II
and III, much as you might a newspaper article while waiting
for a bus. You will find many terms which you do not understand
— do not worry about this, and do not try at this stage to memorize
any of the material in these chapters.
Next you should read through Chapters IV and V fairly care-
PREFACE
xi
fully, memorizing in particular the meaning of the terms in bold
type. Then re-read Chapters II and III more carefully, though
you should still not attempt to memorize details. After this you
might do the Exercise in Appendix B.
If you are satisfied that you have a reasonably good grasp of
the subject so far, go on to Chapter VI. You will probably find
this difficult at first but you should make sure that you know it
thoroughly. But do not worry if you cannot follow in detail
Section 8 of this chapter. This is merely a digression in which I
have suggested a tentative answer to one of the most difficult
problems in theoretical anthropology.
It will help you in reading Chapter VI if you refer back from
time to time to the earlier chapters where you will find illustra-
tions (though they are not explicitly stated as such) of the general
principles of cultural analysis. For example you should try to
discern how far the various features of Eskimo culture — including
local organization, material culture, magic and religion — are
related to the needs for protection against climate, ventilation and
the securing of an adequate food supply under exceptionally
rigorous geographical conditions. Again, you should reconsider
some of the material on Social Organization in the light of the
question how far the widely varying systems of kinship, rank and
local organization serve to organize the sexual, reproductive and
material needs of various communities as well as to satisfy the
wider integrative needs for the regulation of economic rights and
responsibilities, for the establishment of authority and for the
transmission of knowledge, rank and wealth from one generation
to the next. You should also be able to see how human activities
are organized into institutions, and the complex functions of
these in relation to human needs in the case of, for example, Hehe
chieftainship, Karadjeri increase ceremonies and various forms
of voluntary association. Of course you will find my descriptions
inadequate and incomplete and you should refer as far as possible
to good original ethnographic records.
Having mastered Chapter VI you should pass on to the re-
maining chapters. Here the treatment is necessarily superficial,
and at this point in your studies further reading becomes abso-
lutely essential to a thorough grasp of the subject.
Collateral reading : While I hope that this work will provide a
general outline of our subject, it would be pretentious to make
encyclopaedic claims upon it. You should therefore do as much
PREFACE
xii
collateral reading as possible as advised in the bibliographical
commentaries . 1 These may appear formidable in their extent for
elementary reading. It is obvious that no student, unless he or she
is reading for an honours degree, or intends to become a pro-
fessional anthropologist, can read more than a very small propor-
tion of the works cited. Why, then, have I been so lavish in my
recommendations? For two reasons: Firstly, the shortage of
books and periodicals is such that many of the works cited may not
be available to the reader and I have therefore tried to provide
as many alternatives as possible ; and secondly, I personally prefer
to encourage students to follow up their own interests in regard
to both areas and subjects, rather than to prescribe a set of in-
tellectual hurdles which they must jump during their elementary
course. You should therefore, while reading this book, select
certain subjects or peoples which particularly interest you, and
read more about them. And I would strongly advise you to make
your reading intensive rather than extensive — it is better to know
two or three books really well than a dozen superficially.
Photographs , Museums and Films : Your interest in, and therefore
your knowledge of, primitive peoples will be increased if you can
gain as vivid a mental picture as possible of how they look and
dress, how they make and handle their artefacts, and the bodily
attitudes which they adopt in day-to-day activities and on cere-
monial occasions. The simplest means of achieving this is by look-
ing at good photographs in modern descriptions of primitive peoples.
Such illustrations are usually either good portraits or action
photographs showing mundane activities of day-to-day life as
well as formal ceremonies. Photographs in many older field
records concentrate very largely on the latter, or on portraits of
groups of miserable-looking natives lined up as though awaiting
a firing squad.
Good photographs tell you more about the appearance of
natives than reams of verbal description or masses of anthropo-
metric data. I have deliberately minimized illustration in this
work in order to reduce its cost, but I strongly advise you, at an
early stage in your studies, to spend two or three hours in the
anthropological section of a good library, browsing through the
illustrations in modern ethnographic works, particularly those
which deal with peoples discussed in the present book.
1 On the system of references employed in the bibliographical commentaries and
elsewhere in the text, see the note at the beginning of the bibliography.
PREFACE
xm
You should also, if possible, visit the ethnological galleries of a
good museum. But in doing this you should beware of taking a
merely casual interest in the queer, exotic or even aesthetically
pleasing artefacts of primitive man. Any good ethnological collec-
tion contains, in addition to specimens, photographs and descrip-
tive labels which will tell you something of the social life of the
peoples who made and used the material objects displayed before
you. It is upon these that you should concentrate. In this way,
in terms of what you will learn in Chapter VI, you will be
able to appreciate to some extent the anthropological reality
of the purely material objects before you, that is, the
institutional setting in which they were manufactured and
used.
Finally, you should if possible see one or more good docu-
mentary films of life in primitive societies. Unfortunately, there
are very few such films and they are not often exhibited in com-
mercial cinemas. Among the best may be mentioned Nanook of
the North and two excellent colour films of aboriginal life in central
Australia, Tjurunga and Walkabout , produced by Mr. Charles
Mountford of the South Australian Museum. The latter are
available through Australia House, London, as is Native Earth , a
striking if somewhat over-dramatized documentary on the effects
of the second world war on the natives of New Guinea. The film
Ankole , in spite of technical defects, gives a good illustration of the
economic symbiosis of the Bahima and Bairu, while The Fight for
Life and Mamprusi Village show something of the life of peoples of
the Northern Territories of the Gold Coast.
Native Terms : You will find a number of native terms in this
book. In general, you should not attempt to memorize them.
Some, such as the Potlatch , the Kula and lobola are so extensively
referred to here and in other anthropological works that you will
automatically come to know their meaning. But most of the
native terms are used merely to avoid circumlocution in the
description of individual cultures and do not form an essential
part of your understanding of the general principles of cultural
description and analysis with which we are concerned. I have
therefore in general minimized as far as possible the use of native
terms.
The one exception to this is the section on the Karadjeri tribe
in Chapter III. Here I have presented an abbreviated account of
my own field-work on the ceremonial and magico-religious aspects
xiv
PREFACE
of Karadjeri culture. In this section of the book I have deliber-
ately included a number of native terms and details of ritual and
mythology. I have not done this in order to increase your diffi-
culties but to enable you to realize the numerous native categories,
and the detailed types and variations of belief and formalized
behaviour with which any field-worker must cope. You will
merely waste your time if you attempt to memorize these minutia
of Karadjeri culture, but you should, after reading through the
book as a whole, be able to see them as illustrating certain general
principles. For example, the details of the ritual duties of near and
distant kin during initiation ceremonies should not concern you;
but you should be able to see them as an illustration of the
principle that one of the functions of Australian kinship systems is
to provide a definition of rights and responsibilities in ceremonial
affairs ; and also of how members of the novice’s own family play
an entirely negative, although important, part in the rites, since
it is from them that the boy is in a sense being taken in order to
become an adult member of the tribe. Again, the totemic charac-
ters in the Karadjeri myths, of which a few only are given, are not
individually important. But collectively they illustrate how a
detailed knowledge of, and interest in, the natural environment
and living things which are essential to survival is symbolically
expressed in mythology and ceremonial. Finally, this detailed
treatment, even if you only read it cursorily, will make you aware
of the enormous detail involved in describing even one or two
sets of institutional activities in a given culture. For anything like
adequate ethnographic description a similar and actually far
more detailed description should be given for cultures which are
dismissed in a line or two in the Cooks’ Tour and in the Ethno-
graphic Directory.
Spelling and Pronunciation : These are apt to be a source of diffi-
culty for the beginner. Many native languages contain sounds not
used in English, and furthermore English spelling is notoriously
inconsistent. To overcome these difficulties special orthographic
symbols have been devised. These will be mentioned in connection
with the study of language in Volume II. For the moment I will
mention only two, which are commonly encountered in anthropo-
logical writings. Firstly the symbol “q”, called an eng or ing, is
often used to represent the sound of ng as in hang . In this book I
have employed the simple ng for this sound and have rendered the
two sounds represented by ng in anger as ngg. Thus I would distin-
PREFACE
xv
guish between the two English words mentioned by writing them
as hang and angger respectively. Secondly there is the glottal stop,
represented by the diacritical sign 9 or sometimes This replaces
a consonant, as in the Tahitian word for “chief” which was ar¥i>
a dialectal variation of the term ariki found in some other parts of
Polynesia. The glottal stop does not usually occur in English, but
may frequently be heard in the speech of a Cockney who goes
to a foo’ball match or a Scotsman who mixes his whisky with
wa’er.
As regards the pronunciation of ordinary letters, there is much
inconsistency in ethnographic writings, but a rule commonly
observed is that consonants are pronounced as in English and
vowels as in Italian, according to the following table of
equivalence :
“a” is pronounced as “a” in father
“e” „ „ „ “a” in baby (usually)
“i” „ „ „ “ee” in eel
“~” „ “o” in robe, occasionally as in tropic
“u” „ „ „ “oo” in soon
It must be emphasized that this is only a very approximate guide,
there being many exceptions to the above rules, and that accurate
pronunciation is not essential to your understanding of primitive
culture. Vowel sounds in particular shade off into each other, and
apart from those which are peculiar to native languages there are
others, such as the French “u” and the German “6” which also
occur in primitive languages.
Finally, you should refrain from attempting to make a plural
of the names of native peoples by adding an “s” — for example, it
is quite wrong to speak of the “Maoris”, the “Bantus” or the
“Eskimos”. Some ethnographers have adopted this practice, as
in the case of the Reddis, Chcnchus and Todas (singular and
adjectival forms: Reddi, Chenchu, Toda), and such usages must
be taken as traditionally sanctioned. But you should never add a
final “s” unless you have actually seen it in print in a reputable
work. Contrariwise, when a native name ends with “s” you should
be cautious about attempting to make a singular form by dropping
the final consonant. An individual native of Manus is not a Manu.
Only familiarity with anthropological writings will make you
conversant with the inconsistencies of usage, but you should avoid
the common solecisms mentioned at the beginning of this
paragraph.
xvi
PREFACE
4. Acknowledgments
The fact that this volume has been prepared under the stress of
post-war teaching conditions makes me keenly conscious of my
indebtedness to those who have assisted in its production or have,
in one way or another, facilitated my task. Above all, I would like
to express the debt which I owe to my wife for her constant
inspiration, her invaluable secretarial assistance and her many
helpful criticisms. I should also like to say how much this work
owes to the collaboration of my colleague, Mr. James Littlejohn, in
the final stages of the preparation of the text and in the correction
of proofs. Dr. Audrey Richards and Mr. J. C. Trevor have read
the earlier sections of Chapters VII and VI respectively, and I am
most grateful for their valuable emendations. Professor Raymond
Firth has very kindly revised the diagram shown in Fig. 8, and I
am indebted to Mr. David Abercrombie for checking the note on
spelling and pronunciation. Professors A. L. Goodhart and A. H.
Campbell have been good enough to provide me with much
interesting information, a small portion only of which I have been
able to use, on American Common Law Marriage and on the
corresponding custom in Scotland. I am most grateful to Mr. S. F.
Collins for preparing the first three maps and several of the dia-
grams and for much help in connection with the proofs and the
preparation of the Ethnographic Directory and Bibliography.
I am much indebted to Mrs. D. Maclnnes for assistance of a simi-
lar kind, and I would also like to express my warm appreciation
of the many hours of painstaking work which Miss M. Le Harivel
has devoted to the typing of considerable sections of the
manuscript.
Various portions of the text of this volume appeared originally
in other publications by myself. It is impossible to specify these
exactly, as they have been extensively revised, certain sections
have been omitted and new material has been interpolated. But
I have been saved a considerable amount of rewriting by the
permission which I have been given to reproduce them in a re-
vised form in the present work. In this respect I must thank the
Editor of the Aberdeen University Review for allowing me to use
certain extracts from two articles which I contributed to that
Journal in 1939; the Amalgamated Press have kindly allowed me
to use material from articles which originally appeared in The
Encyclopaedia of Modern Knowledge ; Professor A. P. Elkin has given
PREFACE
xvii
me permission to reproduce sections of articles on the Karadjcri
tribe which originally appeared in Oceania ; and finally I wish to
thank the Executors of the late R. W. Williamson and the Cam-
bridge University Press for allowing me to reproduce certain
sections of text which I originally contributed as Editor to Mr.
Williamson’s posthumous works.
Certain chapters of this work contain fairly extensive digests of
original field records. 1 am particularly grateful to Dr. H. Ian
Hogbin for his permission to present abstracts of his work on law
and land tenure in Wogeo, and as regards the latter I must also
thank Professor A. P. Elkin for his acquiescence as Editor of
Oceania . Messrs. Routledge and Kegan Paul have kindly allowed
me to make abstracts from certain chapters of Richards, Hunger
and Work in a Savage Tribe and from Schapera, The Bantu-speaking
Peoples of South Africa and to use, in Fig. 14, a plate from Malinow-
ski, The Sexual Life of Savages . I am indebted to the Rhodes- Living-
stone Institute for permission to present in Section 3 of Chapter
VIII a digest of one of their publications by the late Godfrey
Wilson, and I also wish to thank Professor Monica Wilson for her
acquiescence in this. Dr. Fortes’ chart (Chapter V, Section 3) of
educational development among the Tallensi and his diagram of
lineage structure in Figure 10 are reproduced by courtesy of the
International Institute of African Languages and Cultures, and
their publishers, The Oxford University Press, to whom I am
also indebted for permission to use Plate IV (from Hunter,
Reaction to Conquest) , and Plate V (from Richards, Land , Labour and
Diet in Northern Rhodesia). I am most grateful to Dr. S. F. Nadel for
permission to use the photographs in Plate II, and to the Royal
Anthropological Institute for the use of the photograph by Dr.
H. Ian Hogbin in Plate VI, which originally appeared in the
Journal of the Institute.
Ralph Piddington
Department of Social Anthropology,
University of Edinburgh,
December , ig^8
CONTENTS OF VOLUME I
PREFACE
1 . Problems of Presentation
.
•
•
. vii
2. Note for the Teacher
•
•
»
. viii
3. Note for the Student
•
.
. x
4. Acknowledgments
.
.
•
. xvi
Figures, Plates and Maps
•
•
•
. XXV
CHAPTER I
THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
1. The Anthropological Sciences . . . i
2. Primitive Culture . . . . • 3
3. The Aims of Social Anthropology . . ,7
4. The Method of Social Anthropology . . .10
5. The Functional Approach to Primitive Culture • 14
6. The Analysis of Culture . . . .17
7. The Classification of Cultures and the Comparative
Method . . . . . .22
8. Past and Present in the Study of Primitive Culture . 26
9. Bibliographical Commentary . . .29
chapter n
A COOKS’ TOUR OF PRIMITIVE PEOPLES:
AFRICA AND AMERICA
1. The Variety of Primitive Cultures • . .31
2. The Cultures of African Peoples • » • 33
xix
XX
CONTENTS
3. Hunting and Food-gathering Peoples of Africa . 36
4. African Pastoralists . • 37
5. Agricultural Peoples of Africa and Mixed Ecologies - 39
6. The American Indians . . . .40
7. Food Areas of the New World . . .41
8. The Eskimo . . . . . 45
9. The Iroquois . . . . . 52
10. The ITaida Potlatch • . . . 5G
11. Bibliographical Commentary . • . 58
CHAPTER III
A COOKS’ TOUR OF PRIMITIVE PEOPLES:
ASIA AND OCEANIA
1 . Primitive Cultures of Asia . . .60
2. Reindeer Peoples of Northern Asia . . • 60
3. Pastoralists of Central Asia . . *63
4. Some Primitive Tribes of India, Assam and Burma . 65
5. Malaysia . . . . 69
6. Primitive Cultures of the Pacific • . • 7 1
7. Polynesia . . . . . -73
8. Melanesia , . • . . *73
9. The Australian Aborigines . . . .74
10. The Karadjeri Tribe . . . .76
11. Bibliographical Commentary • # .105
chapter rv
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
1. Social Structure in Primitive Society . • * 107
2. The Family, Marriage and Kinship . . .110
CONTENTS
xxi
3. Descent, Succession, Inheritance and Residence . 115
4. Classificatory Terminology and the Language of
Kinship . . . . .122
5. The Rights, Obligations and Restrictions of Kinship . 128
6. Marriage Observances . . . . 139
7. Extended Kinship Groupings . . . 144
8. The Family Reconsidered . . , . 153
9. Conclusion . . . . . .161
10. Bibliographical Commentary . . .162
chapter v
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION {continued)
1. Local Grouping . . . . .164
2. Sex Grouping and the Place of Women in Primitive
Society . . . . 369
3. Age Groups, Initiation Ceremonies and Primitive
Education . . . . • 175
4. Political Organization and Social Status . . 1 89
5. Totemic Groupings . 200
6. Voluntary Associations .... 20G
7. The Integration of Social Groupings . . *215
8. Bibliographical Commentary . . .216
CHAPTER VI
THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
1. The Instrumental Function of Human Culture . 219
2. Primary Needs . . . . .221
3. Derived Needs • 227
4. Integrative Needs . • . • *232
xxii CONTENTS
5. Needs and Institutions . .
• .
236
6. The Structure of Institutions
. •
239
7. The Analysis of an Institution
. .
241
8. Cultural Efflorescence and Degeneration
. •
244
9. The Universal Aspects of Human Culture
. •
247
10. A Recreational Institution
. .
249
1 1 . Bibliographical Commentary
. •
255
CHAPTER VH
FOOD AND WEALTH
1. Nutrition and Culture
• .
256
2. The Genetic Study of Nutrition among
the South-
eastern Bantu
.
259
3. The Material Setting of Human Life and the Study of
Primitive Economics
. •
266
4. Production ....
. »
267
5. Exchange ....
. .
270
6. The Kula ....
• •
279
7. Distribution and Ownership .
• .
282
8. Bibliographical Commentary
• .
286
CHAPTER VIII
LAND TENURE
1. Man and his Land ..... 287
2. Land Tenure in Wogeo .... 290
3. Nyakyusa Land Tenure .... 300
4. The Scientific Study of Land Tenure . .312
5. The Fiction of Primitive Communism . . 314
6. Bibliographical Commentary . . . 317
CONTENTS xxiii
CHAPTER IX
PRIMITIVE LAW
1. Law and Custom in Primitive Societies • . 319
2. The Variety of Primitive Legal Systems • . 322
3. The Sanctions of Social Conformity . . . 324
4. Law and Custom in Wogeo .... 328
5. Legal Institutions of the Southern Bantu . . 338
6. The Definition of Primitive Law . • . 351
7. Bibliographical Commentary . • • 355
chapter x
RELIGION AND MAGIC
1. Some Early Theories of Primitive Religion . . 356
2. Religion and Magic . . .361
3. The Cultural Function of Religion and Magic . . 366
4. The Charter of Mythology .... 369
5. The Social and Individual Significance of Magico-
Religious Belief . . . . -374
6. Magico-Religious Ritual .... 377
7. The Ethical Implications of Religion and Magic . 380
8. Witchcraft among the Azande . . 382
9. The Validation of Magico-Religious Beliefs . • 388
10. Religion and Human Welfare • • . 390
11 Bibliographical Commentary . . .391
CHAPTER XI
THE NATIVE AND OURSELVES
1. The Savage in Fancy Dress .... 393
2. Barbarous Customs . • . 394
XXIV
CONTENTS
3. Savage Superstition . • . • • 397
4. Race and Culture • • • • . 398
5. The “Practical Man” .... 399
6. The Place of Social Anthropology in Modern Culture 402
APPENDICES
a. An Ethnographic Directory • . . • 404
b. Kinship Exercise . . . . .413
c. Primitive Communism — An Experiment in Semantics 416
d. Answers to Kinship Exercise . . . 420
Bibliography ..... 422
Index ...... 434
FIGURES, PLATES AND MAPS
FIGURES
1. The Anthropological Sciences . . .2
2. Plan of the Long House of the Iroquois . . 53
3. Hypothetical English Genealogy (Patrilineal Descent) 108
4. The Family in Monogamous and Polygamous Societies 1 13
5. Hypothetical English Genealogy illustrating Matrilineal
Descent of Surname . . . .116
6. Principle of Classificatory Usage among the Karadjcri 12 1
7. Karadjeri Kinship Terms . . . .123
8. Tikopia Kinship Terms of Reference . Facing page 124
9. Types of Cousin . . . . .128
10. Paradigm of the Lineage System of the Tallcnsi . 145
11. Lineage, Clan and Extended Family . Facing page 152
12. Trobriand Cross-cousin Marriage . . .156
13. Plan of one type of Pondo umzi . . .166
14. The Village of Omarakana . . . .168
15. Some Varieties of Totemism . . . . 205
16. Buying a Pig in Rossel Island . . ,278
17. Dap Village, Wogeo . • . -291
18. Reversion of Dowry Land in Wogeo . • . 297
19. A Typical Village of the Nyakyusa . . . 302
20. The Homestead of a Rich Man among the Nyakyusa 304
21. A Typical Bean Garden of the Nyakyusa . . 305
XXV
xxvi
PLATES AND MAPS
PLATES
i.
Eaglehawk Increase Ceremony, Karadjeri
Tribe
Frontispiece
ii.
Nuba Agriculture
Facing page
40
hi.
Display of Pirmal, Karadjeri Tribe .
• •
104
IV.
Pondo imizi ....
• ♦
166
V.
A Bemba Village
• •
168
VI.
A Ceremonial Fight in Wogeo
• •
330
MAPS
I.
Some Cultures of Africa
• •
35
II.
Food Areas of the New World
• •
42
III.
Location of Certain Oceanic Cultures
• •
72
IV. VVogeo . •
• •
290
CHAPTER I
THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
/. The Anthropological Sciences
Because man’s life is lived in society, his interest is inevitably
focused upon the thoughts, feelings and actions of his fellows.
From birth to death he is continually dependent upon other
people for his nourishment, his training, his security, and for the
affection and good-fellowship which make life worth while. These
material and spiritual debts find expression in his consciousness
of kind and his recognition of his place as an individual in the
wider scheme of human life.
The limits of these interests vary. They may be confined to the
home, the school, the village or other small community; they may
be extended to national and international fields; and they may be
so wide as to embrace all mankind, including those peoples whom
we call “primitive”. The study of these is the special province of
the anthropological sciences, which are concerned with the
manner in which primitive man adapts himself to his environ-
ment, geographical, material and social. The three anthropo-
logical sciences are Physical Anthropology, Prehistoric Archaeo-
logy and Social Anthropology. Their interrelationships and fields
of study are summarized in Fig. i.
Physical Anthropology is concerned with the bodily charac-
teristics of man. One of its tasks is the classification and study of
existing races of men, involving the measurement of such physical
characteristics as the shape of the skull, height, skin colour and
hair texture. The recording and analysis of bodily measurements
are referred to as anthropometry or somatology. The study of race also
involves a knowledge of human genetics , so far as it is concerned
with the ways in which racial characteristics are transmitted from
generation to generation. This is a complex and highly specialized
field of study, in which few very definite conclusions have
emerged. In particular, it is impossible to discern any relationship
between racial types on the one hand, and differences in mental
characteristics or behaviour on the other. Such differences may
2 THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
exist, but there is no scientifically valid evidence to support the
many popular theories concerning alleged racial differences in
intelligence, temperament or character. Such theories are usually
the result, not of scientific enquiry, but of attempts to give justifi-
cation to lines of policy based on racial antagonisms and political
interests.
From our own point of view the more important task of physical
anthropology is the description of the evolutionary processes
whereby man acquired the characteristics which differentiate
him from the anthropoid apes — his upright posture, his manipu-
lative ability, his power of speech, and above all the large and
Fig. i
complex brain which enabled him to co-ordinate his impressions,
to remember, to reflect, to imagine and to anticipate the future.
All these physical developments were related to one another,
and enabled man to invent and fashion tools and weapons, to
communicate and co-operate with his fellows, and to live in a
morally ordered society. These characteristics of human life,
which make man’s adaptation something quite different from
anything found among animals, are summed up in the term
culture, about which more will be said presently. The other two
anthropological sciences are concerned with the study of this
specifically human form of adaptation.
Of the earliest cultural achievements of mankind, which are
THE ANTHROPOLOGICAL SCIENCES
3
the province of Prehistoric Archaeology, we know little, except
on the material side. The tools, weapons and implements of pre-
historic man are mainly important to us as revealing the signifi-
cant changes in economic and social life which marked the earliest
developments of human culture. Thus the earliest implements of
chipped stone, bone and reindeer antler which marked the
Palaeolithic Age tell us something of the time when man lived
exclusively by hunting, fishing and gathering edible fruits, roots
or nuts. The wandering existence of the hunter and food-gatherer
gave way to the settled life of the cultivator or the more orderly
nomadism of the herdsman at the beginning of the Neolithic Age,
when spindle whorls, potsherds and stone sickles provide evidence
of the invention of weaving, pottery and, most important of all,
agriculture.
The adoption of* metals as the raw material for tools and
weapons saw the development of the specialist craft of the metal-
lurgist, while the transition from copper to bronze necessitated
extensive trade to provide the rarer metal tin, to convert copper
into the harder alloy bronze. Finally, the use of iron, with the
greater control over the environment which its cheapness made
possible, brings us to the beginning of historic times, when written
records take up the story.
But the conditions of economic, social and political life in pre-
historic times can only be discerned in dimmest outline. To study
man’s family organization, his political institutions, his religion and
magic, and his types of economic life under primitive conditions, we
must turn to the existing peoples of Africa, Oceania, America and
Asia who lack the art of writing and of whom many do not know
the use of metals. Social Anthropology is concerned with these . 1
2. Primitive Culture
Social anthropologists study the cultures of contemporary
primitive communities. The culture of a people may be defined
as the sum total of the material and intellectual equipment
1 The term ethnology is employed in America, on the continent of Europe, and
occasionally in Britain, as a substitute for ‘‘social anthropology”. But it refers primarily
to those schools of anthropology which are largely concerned with historical analyses
of the diffusion of culture (see below), sometimes referring also to the data of physical
anthropology and prehistoric archaeology so far as these contribute to historical
reconstruction. For this reason the term is better avoided, but its adjectival form
(ethnological) is a convenient one. The term ethnography refers to the actual
collecting and recording of data about primitive culture, as distinct from theoretical
interpretation.
THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
4
whereby they satisfy their biological and social needs and adapt
themselves to their environment . 1 The nature of this adaptation
varies greatly from one community to another, but is always
based on the common biological characteristics of man. Because
man is an animal, human beings have the same biological needs
the whole world over; and because the conditions of their associa-
tion in societies are similar everywhere, there are certain general
principles of organization common to all human communities,
primitive and civilized.
The culture of any people includes two groups of phenomena :
firstly, there are the material objects which they manufacture in
order to satisfy their wants, such as tools, weapons, utensils,
clothing, ornaments, houses and canoes as well as temples, idols,
charms, amulets and other objects used for magico-religious pur-
poses. These are called the material culture of a people. The
smaller objects of material culture arc referred to as artefacts.
(American spelling: artifacts.) Logically we should apply this
term to all modifications of the natural environment by the hands
of man, including houses, temples, canoes, bridges and such
alterations to the landscape as fortifications and systems of irriga-
tion. But by convention the use of the term ‘‘artefact” is usually
restricted to the smaller objects of material culture which may be
carried or handled by an individual. The study of the techniques
by which objects of material culture are made is known as
technology.
Secondly, all human communities possess a body of knowledge,
belief and values which is just as vital to survival as their arte-
facts. These intangible phenomena are often referred to as the
spiritual or social culture of a community. The social culture of
a people includes their knowledge of natural phenomena and
processes, their systems of political and economic organization,
their rules of morality, law and good behaviour, and finally their
magico-religious beliefs and practices.
It cannot be too strongly emphasized that neither material nor
social culture can be scientifically studied in isolation from the
other. This is best illustrated by reference to ecology, that is,
1 The reader should be warned against confusing this specialized use of the term
“culture* * with the more limited meaning attached to it in popular usage, where it
refers only to certain specialized types of intellectual activity. From the point of view
of anthropology, a steam locomotive, a horse-race, a factory or a popular song are
just as much a part of British culture as a symphony, an exhibition of paintings, a
university or an edition of the works of Shakespeare.
PRIMITIVE CULTURE
5
man’s adaptation to his geographical environment. In the getting
of food, man employs such artefacts as hunting weapons, snares,
fish-hooks and lines, nets and agricultural implements, while he
protects himself from the weather by erecting houses, tents or
other shelters as well as by the making of clothing. The manufac-
ture and use of these objects cannot be understood without refer-
ence to the matrix of social culture in which they occur — systems
of land tenure, the economic organization of production, distribu-
tion and exchange, the exercise of authority, and finally the beliefs
and practices of religion and magic. On the other hand, these
elements of social culture are only comprehensible in their
material setting of geographical environment and in relation to
the objects of material culture by which natural resources are
exploited and the material needs of man are satisfied.
We have said that social anthropology is concerned with the
culture of primitive communities. It must be emphasized that
there is no rigid dividing-line between primitive and civilized
cultures. A wide range of human adaptations is found in the world
today from hunters and food gatherers, such as the Australian
aborigines, to the most complicated developments of modern
European or American civilizations. There are, however, charac-
teristics of certain cultures which we may conveniendy call primi-
tive. These are:
i. Illiteracy; the presence or absence of writing is the most
common distinction drawn between civilized and primitive
cultures.
ii. The organization of society on the basis of small social
groupings, such as the clan, village or tribe, in contra-
distinction to the state, nation or empire in the case of
civilized peoples.
iii. A low level of technical achievement.
iv. Social relations based on kinship and locality are far more
important than in civilized societies.
v. In primitive societies generally there is a lack of economic
specialization and of the overlapping of social groups which
occur in modern civilized communities.
While these criteria will serve as a rough-and-ready delimita-
tion of our subject-matter, it must be emphasized that in the case
of each the distinctions are relative. For example, such peoples as
6 THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
the Lepchas of Sikkim or many of the communities of West Africa
include some individuals who can read and write. These com-
munities arc therefore, strictly speaking, not illiterate, though
most of their members are so. Again, many peoples with a low
level of technology nevertheless possess an elaborate political
organization, a good example being the League of the Iroquois.
Thus, while there is a general tendency for the above character-
istics to co-exist in certain societies which we call “primitive”,
the student should not think of “primitive peoples” as a separate
breed of men, and caution should be employed in using such terms
as “advanced” or “highly developed” cultures.
Since all human cultures are founded on certain common
basic principles, it may be asked why social anthropologists
should limit themselves to a study of primitive communities . 1 In
part this is the result of historical accident, in that most social
anthropologists have in fact so limited their studies. But there is a
more cogent reason why specialists should concentrate on the
study of the primitive : the study of primitive cultures requires a
specialized technique which lays emphasis upon the interrelation
of all cultural facts. As we shall see, primitive culture is not
divided into discrete spheres of human activity such as economic,
legal and technological, to the same extent as our own. It follows
that such subjects as law, economics and technology cannot be
studied in primitive society without reference to their relation to
other aspects of culture. We shall therefore take as our field of
study any community to which the specific techniques of social
anthropology outlined in this book are applicable.
Most of the primitive communities which we shall study were
isolated for many centuries from the centres where the major
civilizations of the world developed. For example, the Australian
aborigines appear to have been completely cut off from the out-
side world (apart from possible minor contacts in the north with
Malays and the natives of New Guinea) since their ancestors first
reached the Australian continent. The peoples of Africa, south of
the Sahara, were never significantly affected by the civilizations
to the north of them — certainly the sociology of a Bantu com-
munity is more akin to that of certain Polynesian societies than
it is to the historic civilizations of Egypt, Greece, Rome and
1 As a matter of fact, several valuable experiments have been carried out in the
application of anthropological techniques to the study of civilized communities. But
it remains true that most social anthropologists concentrate on the study of primitive
culture.
PRIMITIVE CULTURE
7
Islam. Finally, certain Indian tribes which we shall have occasion
to mention, though surrounded by highly developed Indian
civilizations, nevertheless show characteristics which are essen-
tially primitive.
The historic isolation of primitive peoples has, particularly
during the past two centuries, been broken by the widespread
diffusion of European and American civilization. Today, “un-
touched” primitive cultures are rare, surviving only in such
places as the less accessible regions of Central Africa, South
America, New Guinea and Australia. In most instances primitive
communities have been affected to a greater or lesser degree by
the impact of civilization, sometimes to such an extent that little
or nothing remains of their old culture. This process, which is
known as culture contact, has raised enormous theoretical and
practical problems which are becoming an increasingly important
field of study for the social anthropologist.
It should be mentioned that det realization , the breakdown of
primitive cultures as a result of culture contact, makes it imposs-
ible for the social anthropologist to be both consistent and accur-
ate in his use of tenses in speaking of the cultures of most primitive
peoples. In describing a primitive culture on the basis of informa-
tion collected today (either directly by field-work or indirectly
from literary sources), the social anthropologist usually finds that
some of his statements about the culture should be cast in the
present tense and others in the past. Consistency and precision in
the use of terms can be attained only in the case of a few virtually
untouched primitive cultures on the one hand and those which
have completely disappeared (for example, that of the Tasman-
ians) on the other. No attempt will therefore be made in this work
to achieve consistency in this respect. The reader must, however,
be warned that many of the statements made in the present tense
regarding the cultures of primitive peoples are no longer true, or
although true at the present may not be so in five or ten years*
time.
5. The Aims of Social Anthropology
The aim of any science is to study a specified part of the real
world and from a study of facts to formulate theories which shall
serve as recipes for human conduct, whether that conduct be the
carrying out of further research or the taking of practical steps for
the promotion of human welfare. This view of the task of science
s.a. 1—3
8 THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
implies a complete rejection of the common antithesis between
pure and applied science. The relation of these two aspects of
scientific enquiry has been defined by Professor Lancelot Hogben :
“It is one thing to say that a discipline can only rank as genuine
science when it can also supply us with recipes for the practical
conduct of affairs, and it is another to say that scientific research
is and must always be confined to topics of immediate social
value. If you have to build a railway you need a map. It is
obviously superficial to draw a sharp distinction between the
work done in mapping the actual track traversed as useful work in
contradistinction to all the useless work of mapping the part of the
territory over which no rails are laid down. One reason is that you
cannot know what you will have to scrap till your task is finished.
Another is that the existence of the railway may make it necessary
or desirable to have a water supply, town, or sanatorium in the
vicinity. What is easily overlooked is that the part of the map
where no rails are laid down, where no town is built, where no
wells are tapped, and where no sanatorium is erected would not
have been prospected unless there had first been a defijiite social reason
for constructing the map” 1
In attempts to draw a distinction between pure and applied
science, much misunderstanding arises from confusion between
the direction and effects of scientific enquiry on the one hand, and
the particular motives of individual scientists on the other. Hogben
has shown in the work cited how many theoretical advances have
been made as a direct result of the realization of new human
requirements in a changing culture. On the other hand, it is
equally true that useful practical results have emerged from
enquiries pursued out of pure scientific interest and with no
practical end in view. The most striking example is the statement
attributed to the physicist, Hertz, whose researches were funda-
mental to the development of modern radio, that he did not
think that his discoveries could ever have any useful practical
application. In social anthropology it is certainly true that re-
searches motivated by purely theoretical interest may have far-
reaching practical applications, while those which arise from the
pursuit of practical objectives may, provided that they are gov-
erned by scientific discipline, lead to the elucidation of abstract
theoretical problems. The motives of individual observers are
thus seen to be irrelevant to the progress of scientific knowledge.
1 Hogben, Science for the Citizen , Epilogue.
THE AIMS OF SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY
9
Ideally, ethnographic accounts given by a missionary who
wishes to convert natives to Christianity, or by an administrator
who wishes to govern more effectively, should not differ from those
given for the same community by a research worker in social
anthropology. But, as we shall see later, the training and back-
ground of the different classes of investigators mean in fact that
this ideal is not often achieved.
It follows from what has been said that the aims of any science
are best defined by reference to the human problems to which it is
related. In terms of this criterion, what are the aims of social
anthropology?
The physical and biological sciences have enormously increased
man’s understanding of, and control over, his environment. By
comparison the social sciences are “young”. Yet an understanding
of the laws governing human behaviour and human relations is
essential to the proper application of the resources of science to
the promotion of human welfare. We who live today are shaping
for good or ill the future of our world. It is essential that we should
do so intelligently and constructively. Underlying contemporary
social and political creeds and policies we can detect certain
assumptions which rest upon varying conceptions, or miscon-
ceptions, of human nature. We are told that man is naturally
communistic, altruistic and peaceful; or alternatively that he is
essentially individualistic and aggressive, born eternally to per-
petuate the law of the jungle in cut-throat competition and the
ruthless extermination of the unfit; that he is instinctively reli-
gious, or that religion and ethics are no more than by-products
of economic change. These are rich fields for disputation about
“human nature” in which primitive people are frequently dragged
in by the heeb so support the arguments of one faction or the
other. Here social anthropology can help by providing a solid
basis of empirical evidence.
Though this aspect of anthropological research has not received
the attention which it deserves, valuable work has been done by
posing concrete problems and considering them in the light of
ethnographic evidence. For example: are the emotional crises
associated with adolescence in our own society due primarily to
biological changes in the growing human organism, or to the
culture in which our young are reared ? Is the individual family a
necessary and universal institution in human society, or could its
place be taken by other institutional arrangements? Naturally,
IO THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
social anthropology cannot provide simple and forthright solu-
tions for all current social problems. And at all costs it must not
allow scientific knowledge to be distorted to fit in with social and
political prejudices. But since most of the suggested solutions lor
these problems rest upon assumptions concerning human nature,
it is useful to know how men live, behave and look upon life in
environments vastly different from our own. On the one hand,
the complexity of the issues raised by such a study leads us to
reject simple formulations; while on the other, the fact that
primitive communities are faced with the same sort of problems,
which they solve in a variety of ways, that their adjustments are
purposive, and in some respects better than our own, leads us to
hope that their experience of success and failure may be of help
to us in our own work of social reconstruction.
The second aim of social anthropology is related to the study of
culture contact, previously mentioned. It is essential to study the
effects produced on primitive cultures by the impact of modern
civilization. This not only involves problems of considerable
theoretical interest, but is also vital to the problems of missionaries,
officers in the Colonial Service, and others whose work brings
them into direct contact with native peoples. For these, insight
into the working of primitive society is of the greatest importance ;
here, as always, the co-ordination of science and practical affairs
is essential to each. Anthropology’ can derive incalculable benefit
from the specialist knowledge of administrators experienced in
native government, from missionaries who have gained the trust
and affection of the people, and from experts in agriculture,
forestry and nutrition, just as these specialists require a knowledge
of native political and legal institutions, religious life and systems
of land tenure, economics and diet.
4. The Method of Social Anthropology
The method of social anthropology is based upon field-work —
the direct study of the beliefs and customs of primitive peoples.
The field observations upon which theoretical interpretation in
social anthropology is founded may be broadly divided into two
classes. Firstly, the observations made in the past by observers
who were largely untrained, but had the advantage of observing
primitive cultures more or less as they existed before the impact of
European civilization and, secondly, those made by modern
scientific observers trained in methods of field-work. The latter
THE METHOD OF SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY n
observations usually concern communities whose original culture
has been largely broken up or distorted by the process of culture
contact.
Field records of primitive peoples began to appear in the late
eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, when such people as
travellers and missionaries began to bring home information
about the peoples of the remote parts of the world which they
visited. But few of these observers had any scientific training, nor
had methods of studying primitive peoples even been considered.
The early observers simply noted what attracted their attention.
Consequently their descriptions are faulty by modern standards.
The science of anthropology had its beginnings in the latter part
of the nineteenth century, w'hen scholars, under the evolutionary
stimulus of Darwin, began to speculate about the meaning and
history of social institutions. But these scientists had no actual
experience in the field — their theories were based upon the in-
adequate observations mentioned above. While interpretation
w 7 as thus separated from observation, no true science of social
anthropology could emerge.
During the first three decades of the present century, observa-
tions were made by trained scientists, and with this began the
building up of a body of scientific information by systematic field-
work, which reached a high level of development in the years
intervening between the two wars.
This synthesis of theory and practice, of arm-chair interpreta-
tion and observation in the field, has produced a body of knowl-
edge which has given to modern social anthropology a truly
scientific character. It is now recognized that theoretical inter-
pretation is only valid and valuable when it is founded on a solid
basis of observed fact, while the collection of material in the field
must be guided and inspired by a systematic body of theory, a
clearly formulated set of problems which w ill enable the observer
to collect all relevant facts and at the same time to discriminate
between those facts which are relevant and those which are not.
We have said that, ideally, observations carried out by academic
anthropologists should be identical with those of the observer
with practical interests, provided that both are aware of modern
methods of field-work. In fact, however, both are limited. The
academic anthropologist sometimes lacks personal interest in the
natives he is studying, particularly when he is considering com-
munities which he does not know at first hand. His craving for
12 THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
system and order frequently leads him to reduce the protean stuff
of human behaviour to a few simple principles. And when he is
addicted to historical reconstruction, this inevitably leads him
to ignore or distort the existing reality of the culture he is studying.
On the other hand, the missionary or administrator has all too
seldom had an opportunity of theoretical training adequate to
the demands of the scientific task of studying primitive peoples.
In the field he is usually so preoccupied with the responsibilities
proper to his practical task that he cannot devote sufficient time
and attention to purely scientific studies. And his own social pre-
judices are apt to distort his judgment to a greater extent than in
the case of the scientist. Thus it is true that many valuable records
of primitive peoples have been provided by missionaries, but in
general they are apt to be biased in their treatment of aspects of
primitive social life which conflict with Christian teaching,
particularly magico-religious beliefs, polygamy and sexual codes.
Again, when the administrator writes of a primitive people, he
is all too apt to concentrate on those features of social life which he
encounters in the course of his official duties, particularly those
which “give trouble”, to the neglect of more recondite problems
of native life which demand patient and persevering investigation.
His treatment is too often coloured by his profession; for example,
in dealing with such subjects as land tenure he often attempts to
reduce a complex system of interlocking and counterbalancing
obligations to a set of hard-and-fast principles comparable with
those found in civilized systems of codified law. The law of land
tenure is perhaps easier to handle administratively when regarded
in this way, but the treatment, as we shall see, distorts the complex
reality of native law and custom.
Both the missionary and administrator are also handicapped by
their professional interests and obligations. The administrator
finds it difficult to mix on an equal and informal footing with
natives, while the missionary must necessarily comment morally
on native conduct. Neither can adopt the completely objective
and dispassionate mood of enquiry essential to field-work in
anthropology as to all scientific research. This mood is particu-
larly difficult to achieve in dealing with primitive culture. The
observer is himself the product of a particular (civilized) culture,
and when his observations are superficial, they are inevitably
coloured by his own cultural background. This leads to a dis-
torted evaluation of features of primitive culture, and of the
THE METHOD OF SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY 13
mentality and temperament of primitive man, in terms of super-
ficial comparisons with certain aspects of our own culture.
Distortions so produced are of two kinds, reflecting either a con-
temptuous dislike of primitive ways of life or an idyllic and
romantic interpretation of them.
The reasons for the first of these are fairly easy to understand.
The conditions of primitive life are so vastly different from our
own that they tend at first to produce amusement, contempt, or
indignation rather than an effort at scientific understanding.
There seems to be no common element in an exotic carving on a
South Sea Island canoe and the achievements of civilized art;
the spectacle of a group of Australian aborigines solemnly pouring
blood upon a stone to increase their food supply seems at first
quite incommensurable with religious life and spiritual aspiration
as we understand it; the economic life of primitive man strikes us
as thoroughly inefficient, hedged about as it is by magical prac-
tices, taboos and superstitious beliefs; and it seems incredible that
ceremonies of orgiastic licence, tolerated pre-marital and extra-
marital intercourse and other customs which we would regard as
immoral, can co-exist with ordered systems of family life, founded
upon biological, psychological and sociological bases similar to
our own.
This is why so many observers have spoken contemptuously of
primitive culture without any genuine attempt to understand its
significance for the native. Many years ago an administrator,
called upon to report on the manners and customs of the primi-
tive people among whom he was working, sent in the brief
report: “Manners none and customs beastly 55 . While most
observers today are more sophisticated than this, there still
lingers in some quarters the idea of primitive peoples as
“barbarians 55 .
The opposite type of distortion is produced by other observers
who approach the study of primitive culture obsessed by the de-
fects of our own world, with its increasingly ghastly methods of
warfare, its economic depressions, its cut-throat competition, its
violent political controversies and its widely publicized cases of
violent and sordid crime. Such observers tend to give us a picture
corresponding to Rousseau’s “noble savage 55 , who is essentially
gentle and decent, who lives in a state of “primitive communism 55 ,
and obeys “automatically 55 the laws and customs of the com-
munity to which he belongs. This idyllic and romantic picture is
it THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
likewise a distortion of the human reality of primitive life, and is
apt to be more pronounced when, as in the case of Elliot Smith,
the observer has never carried out systematic field-work in a
primitive community. First-hand observation in the field reveals
the amount of malicious gossip, backbiting, jealousy and greed
which underlie the apparently harmonious day-to-day life of
primitive peoples, and the personal antagonisms which from
time to time find expression in the performance of evil magic, in
murders, or in village brawls. Everybody seems to be hurling
abuse at someone else at the tops of their voices, the sentiments
expressed are far from “noble'’, and the behaviour anything but
gentle — an amusing example is recorded by Hogbin from a
village brawl in Wogeo, in which a man picked up a dog and
hurled it at his adversary.
To sum up, it is easy enough, on the basis of superficial and one-
sided observation, to caricature primitive man as a fiend or as a
saint. It requires the discipline of patient scientific observation to
see him as a human being not essentially different from ourselves,
capable of brutality and kindness, of greed or altruism, of
obedience or defiance towards the social order, according to the
culture in which he is born, his individual temperament and the
particular circumstances in which he finds himself.
5. The Functional Approach to Primitive Culture
The approach to primitive culture outlined in this book is
founded on what is called the functional method, based upon
the functional theory of human culture. This theory lays down
certain principles which are essential to a scientific examination
of primitive cultures. It insists that human culture is not a thing
of shreds and patches, but an organic unity of which each element
is related to every other. And it examines all the phases of human
activity — economic institutions, political and social organization,
magic and religion — in relation to one another with a view to
understanding how they subserve man's biological, psychological
and social needs.
This appears at first sight to consist of stressing the obvious.
But it is necessary to do so because, both in theoretical interpreta-
tion and in actual research, the obvious is frequently ignored.
Most of the older anthropological works, and many recent ones,
pay no attention to the dynamic factors in social institutions, their
complex character and the relationships existing between them.
THE FUNCTIONAL APPROACH
*5
Systems of family life and kinship have been looked upon as
quaint survivals of early adjustments, and their role in defining
human procreation and in organizing domestic activities has been
ignored; volumes have been devoted to technology, without the
slightest reference to the use of artefacts in the satisfaction of
economic needs, the rules of property defining their ownership,
their function as elements of wealth, and the mythological and
magico-religious beliefs and practices which centre round them.
Finally, religious beliefs and magical practices have been treated
as amusing or shocking oddities, as clumsy attempts at scientific
thought, or as the obstinate perpetuation of some intellectual
blunder, to the complete neglect of their active role in organizing
collective activity, in providing safeguards against apathy, panic
or despair, and in supporting a system of ethical and customary
rules upon which a community depends for its very existence.
These criticisms could be duplicated in every branch of anthro-
pological research, and it is necessary on the one hand to formu-
late a technique for the investigation of living cultures in all
their complexity, and at the same time emphatically to reject all
lines of enquiry which obscure the genuine scientific issues, which
cannot yield verifiable and fruitful results, or which distract
attention from the serious study of working human cultures.
As we have indicated, field-work is the key-note of the func-
tional method. This, again, is based upon a general theory of
human society which enables us to see beneath the bewildering
variety of social customs a certain core of universal human re-
quirements. The older tendency was to lay stress on the differ-
ences between human societies, and to ignore their similarities.
The modern method is, first, to formulate the fundamental needs
of men which all cultures subserve through different institutions,
and then to indicate the variety of ways in which these needs are
satisfied in different primitive societies.
Man’s fundamental needs can be grouped into three classes.
In the first place, there are the primary needs, given in the
biological make-up of the human organism. Hunger and sex arc
the needs which occur to us at once as the fundamental drives of
mankind, but there are also others. Thus, sex does not end at the
act of physical intercourse — it leads to pregnancy and childbirth;
and the human infant so produced is a helpless creature, who
must be fed, cared for and trained during its early life. Some form
of shelter against the elements is required, and also means of self-
6
THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
preservation against the attacks of wild animals or hostile com-
munities. These biological requirements are met by culture; thus
the family and the working team satisfy man’s biological needs of
sex and hunger through a system of organization much more
elaborate than anything which occurs among animals.
This implies the existence of the second class of requirements —
derived needs. If the family is to have a home, man must have
tools to build it with; to catch fish, he must have nets, traps, or
hooks and lines; even in the most primitive pursuit of all, hunting,
man does not use his bare hands — he employs spears, snares, bows
and arrows, or he trains dogs to hunt for him.
But the fact that man’s life is lived in society, that its essence is
co-operation and the exchange of services between human beings,
gives rise to a system of integrative needs, which demand a form
of organization that will enable men to live and work together.
Thus they must have a religion, using the term in a very wide
sense to mean some socially unifying philosophy of life, some
source of moral fortitude in the face of illness, disaster or death.
As we have said, not even the primary biological needs are
satisfied simply and directly. Men co-operate with men in the
production of food and with women in the procreation and train-
ing of children; they employ tools, weapons and implements;
they communicate to one another, through language, the method
of using these material objects; and they live together in defined
areas of territory, where they employ the same body of practical
knowledge and obey the same moral rules.
It is these systems of human activity, or institutions, that are
the really significant elements of culture, for they are the means
which man employs to satisfy his fundamental needs. Any iso-
lated custom, belief or material object, such as a weapon or imple-
ment, cannot be understood except as a part of the institution in
which it occurs. We could describe a typical English house, its
structure, its measurements, the brick or stone of which it is
constructed, without conveying the slightest hint of the meaning
of the term “home” for the people who live in it.
Since any human institution can only be understood as a whole,
it is important that it should be studied in all its aspects, that
nothing which is relevant shall escape observation. The early
untrained field-workers failed to do this. As we have seen they
went out to live with primitive communities and simply wrote
down what interested them or attracted their attention. The
THE FUNCTIONAL APPROACH
17
result was a one-sided concentration on the strange, the spectacu-
lar and the exotic aspects of native life. We were given lurid
accounts of sexual customs without a word about family life, or
long descriptions of queer ceremonies and weird beliefs without
the slightest hint of how the savage obtained his food. Moreover,
these investigations were carried out by the “question and
answer” method, and without any attempt to see whether the
native’s behaviour corresponded with his professed beliefs and
ideals.
This haphazard procedure gave an artificial and distorted
picture of native life. For this reason the modern field- worker
insists on going out to his people armed with a theoretical scheme,
a programme of investigation which will make sure that he misses
nothing that is really relevant. This scheme is based upon a
general view of human society which stresses certain aspects of
culture that will be found in every community because they are
deeply rooted in the biological make-up of the human organism
and in the constitution of human society.
6. The Analysis of Culture
Let us imagine ourselves in the position of a field-worker among
a primitive community — say, a village on a small island in the
Pacific Ocean. At one end of the village some men are preparing
for a fishing expedition, mending their tackle, making plans and
discussing the prospects of a good catch; in a nearby hut a woman
is in labour, and a medicine-man sits outside, intoning a spell for
the welfare of mother and child ; before the largest hut of all are
displayed great heaps of food — fish, pigs cooked whole, yams and
coco-nuts — tribute brought to the chief from a neighbouring
village; around the spring a group of women are gossiping, and in
the distance can be heard the shouts and laughter of small children
sailing their toy canoes upon the lagoon.
How, in such a situation, does the modern field-worker ap-
proach his problem? How will he bring order and intelligibility
into the kaleidoscope of native life which is always presenting to
him a new aspect ? He must have, first and foremost, a clear idea
of what he wants to investigate, and some system of classification
which will help him to arrange his facts. This must cover all
the aspects of native culture, in order to make sure that there are
none of the omissions and gaps in information which characterized
the old method of haphazard observation.
1 8 THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
First of all, he must have a knowledge of the geographical
environment , of the climatic setting, of the kinds of food-stuffs
and raw materials available, and of the seasonal round which the
natives follow, whether they be nomadic hunters, fishermen,
pastoralists or agriculturists. Within this setting he will find a
complex economic system , designed to satisfy the material wants
of the people — to organize production, to control distribution,
and to determine the rights and claims of ownership within the
community.
Probably he will find that this latter system is closely related to
the political organization . The governing authority of primitive
peoples, whether it be a headman, a chief, or a council of tribal
elders, generally plays an important part in economic life. The
chief may direct economic enterprise, may receive vast amounts
of wealth as tribute and redistribute it among the commoners.
Often he is the titular owner of the land, distributing it among his
people and settling the claims of rival parties. This brings us to the
legal aspect of culture, which is concerned with the maintenance of
authority and the enforcement of certain traditional rules.
Every society is constantly renewing itself with fresh human
material; as people die off, new individuals are born into the
world. But these are at first helpless, being unable to fend for
themselves and knowing nothing of the cultural tradition, which
must be taught to them. Thus it is that every culture has some
system of education , using the term in its widest sense — some
means by which the traditions of the people, their practical
knowledge and techniques, their language and their codes of
morals and good behaviour are transmitted from generation to
generation.
So far we have been dealing with the practical activities of man,
with the matter-of-fact procedure which he adopts to solve his
problems. But we have yet to deal with a very vital aspect of his
life, his religion and his magic, which together make up the
magico-religious aspect of culture. Here we are particularly apt to
fall into the old attitude of contempt for native custom. There is a
tendency to dismiss the whole system of magical and religious
beliefs as childish “superstition”, but we must delve deeper and
seek to find the true meaning which these beliefs and practices
possess for the native.
We shall then see his magic, not from our point of view, but
from his. We shall find that it plays a part in his life by giving him
THE ANALYSIS OF CULTURE
1 9
confidence in the face of difficulty and danger, and also that it
serves to organize his practical activities. For example, the
magician is often also an expert craftsman or technician. In a
fishing expedition the man who carries out magical spells to
secure a good catch may also be an expert fisherman; he has a
wealth of information concerning seasons and the weather; he is
familiar with the habits of fish and sea birds, and with the
techniques of craftsmanship required in the making of canoes and
fishing tackle. His supposed power as a magician reinforces his
authority as a leader, and serves to control and organize the whole
enterprise.
Similar considerations apply to the study of religion, of beliefs
in immortality, in ancestor spirits, in queer and phantasmic
demons and gods. Many of these beliefs appear absurd, but when
they are interpreted in terms of human feelings, they appear as
man’s protest at his own futility before the apparent irrationality
of the universe; they carry with them a feeling of human power,
of the intelligibility of nature and of the fundamental value of life.
If our study of primitive culture is to be thorough, we must not
forget its aspects of art , recreation and ceremonial. All human com-
munities employ man’s sensitivity to patterns of sense impressions,
whether it be in music, painting, carving or dancing. Often primi-
tive standards of beauty strike us as perverted, but here, again,
we must recognize the fact that they possess a deep significance
for the native and serve to enliven, to embellish and to beautify
the crude struggle for existence. The same might be said of
ceremonial and recreational activity, which provide a relief from
the humdrum effort of everyday life, and reflect the social values
of the community in which they occur.
Here, then, are aspects of culture which we should find in
every society. In addition, we should constantly be brought up
against four very general features of human life — material culture,
language, social organization and the normative system of senti-
ments, values and moral judgments which determine human
behaviour,
A material substratum of weapons, tools, or artefacts of different
kinds is to be found underlying every human activity, and the
form of institutions is closely related to the material equipment
associated with them — family life takes on different forms in a
South Sea Island hut and in a modern bungalow or apartment-
house, and warfare is largely a different institution according to
20 THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
whether it is carried out with spears and clubs, or with tanks and
aeroplanes.
The modern field-worker must also study language, not only
because it is an essential instrument in obtaining information,
but because language enters into all human institutions, and the
manner in which it is employed in effective communication
is significantly related to the forms of these institutions. Thus in
our own society, speech as used in church, on a parade-ground or
in a court of law is different from that employed in a scientific
discussion, or, again, in arranging a business transaction; its form
is correlated with the differences between the various forms of
human activity.
Moreover, in studying language the anthropologist is driven to
collect texts, which embody the legends, mythology and historical
traditions of the people. These are important, not as an account
of what actually happened in the past, but as a body of beliefs
which gives a traditional justification for present-day institutions.
We are concerned with such historical accounts only in so far as
they live in the present, in the form of beliefs, whether true or
false, which actually influence the lives of the natives.
Every human community possesses some form of social organiza-
tion , some grouping of the people into social units for purposes of
co-operation. The most fundamental unit of social organization
is the family, for it is from here that the growing individual starts
out to explore the society in which he lives. There are numerous
forms of social groupings, the division between the sexes, age-
grades, economic classes, small local groups and wider political
units such as tribes. The complicated interrelations of these
groups, the various functions which they serve, and the manner
in which they co-opcrate — these are some of the most difficult
problems which the modern anthropologist has to face.
Finally, every human culture has its normative aspect , embodying
certain norms or standards which are laid down by tradition.
From the simplest practical technique, such as making a fish-
hook to the most significant rules of moral behaviour, there is
always a “right” and a “wrong” way of doing things, and this is
always supported by some form of sanction, whether ridicule,
legal punishment or moral condemnation.
But when we have analysed culture into its component parts,
we have completed only half our task. We have listed the things
which we must study, but we have not fitted them together into
THE ANALYSIS OF CULTURE
21
an organic whole which reproduces the living reality of human
society. This we can do only by recognizing that every aspect of
culture is related to every other aspect .We should have to deal in
turn with each of the aspects which we have listed and show its
relation to every other phase in native life. In dealing with any
primitive community, this task of “functional correlation” must
be undertaken. To illustrate this, let us take just one of the aspects
which we have mentioned — namely the legal aspect — and show
that it cannot be considered alone, but must be correlated with
every other aspect of culture if it is to be thoroughly understood.
If we are studying primitive legal institutions, we should not
deal simply with crime and punishment. We should try to see law
in its social context. We should not be content merely to see what
happens when the law is broken; we should also ask why it is
kept. This would lead us to study law as a part of custom; the
economic forces which lead people to obey it; the way in which
children are trained to respect the dictates of tradition, and the
religious and magical forces of supernatural punishment, which
often give to law a binding force.
To show how far-reaching is our functional study of law, we
should insist that even art and recreation may have a bearing
upon it. iEsthetic factors enter into legal institutions, and give them
an added impressiveness, whether it be in the scarlet robes of an
English judge or the red feather girdle of a Tahitian high chief.
Even recreation may be important in a study of law and morals ;
the “rules of the game” are often the child’s first contact with the
social order, and give an early impression of what is “not cricket”.
We cannot deal here with the more general aspects of law:
with the material substratum of execution, whether spear, axe or
policeman’s truncheon, together with the emblems and regalia of
legal authority; with the linguistic aspect, embodied in legal
maxims and verbal tradition; with the ethical significance of law,
the manner in which, to be effective, it must be backed by the
moral feelings of society; or with the social groups which may
administer the law, the people who act for the community in
cases of wrong. But we have said enough to indicate that the study
of primitive law is not a simple matter, that law is bound up with
the whole social system, and that it must be studied in all its
aspects if we are to understand how men come to obey laws which
very often run counter to the powerful promptings of individual
passion and greed.
22
THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
7. The Classification of Cultures and the Comparative Method
We have so far spoken only of the study of individual cultures.
But social anthropology aims essentially at comparison of the
different types of human adaptations which make up the wide
variety of primitive cultures, and for this purpose some form of
classification is essential. In these two tasks — comparison and
classification — modern social anthropology has made less head-
way than in the study of individual cultures, largely because the
problems involved are very much more complex and because we
must avoid any superficial comparisons which are not based on a
full appreciation of the nature of cultural reality in the various
cultures studied.
These reservations constitute an objection to the system of
cultural classification adopted by many American ethnologists.
For them the basic unit of cultural reality is the culture trait, that
is, a single item of information with regard to either the material
or the social culture of any people. Each of the individual
standardized types of behaviour which the field-worker observes
is a trait of the culture concerned; for example, the use of a
particular kind of fish-spear, a prescribed type of marriage be-
tween kin, or a method of getting food.
Culture traits usually have a geographical distribution extend-
ing beyond the boundaries of any individual tribe. If we review
the occurrence of several such traits over a given geographical
area, we find that they tend to cluster together into what are
called culture complexes. Here it is important to emphasize a
distinction which is of fundamental importance, but is not always
carefully drawn. The aggregation of traits in a complex may be
due to functional association or to what is called adhesion , that is,
the apparently accidental co-existence of culture traits. As an
example of the former, Wissler points out that the practice of
certain Amerindian tribes in the vicinity of Lake Superior of
relying on wild rice for food is a culture trait, but one which is
integrally related to certain other traits, such as protecting the
growing plants against birds; the gathering, preparation and
cooking of the wild rice; the economic principles governing its
production and distribution, and the rules of etiquette and
magico-religious observances connected with it. Defined in this
way, the conception of a culture complex approximates to that
of an institution as defined in Chapter VI. But many ethno-
CLASSIFICATION AND COMPARISON
23
iogists are by no means consistent in their use of this term. Thus
Wisslcr goes on to cite totemism, the couvade, the horse and
exogamy as further examples of culture complexes. Here we are
dealing with cultural phenomena of widely differing kinds. As
we shall see, totemism is not a single cultural reality, but merely a
useful label for certain widely differing beliefs and practices
which are associated with various types of institution in the differ-
ent cultures in which it occurs. The horse, again, is a biological
and not a cultural reality, since its significance is entirely different
if we consider, for example, its place in the cultures of the
Bedouin and the Plains Indians respectively.
The significance of this becomes more clear when we come to
the next category of classification, namely, the culture area. If
we study a series of contiguous primitive peoples in any part of
the world we find that groups of both culture traits and culture
complexes tend to occur together over specific areas, whether as
a result of functional relationships between them or because of
fortuitous adhesion. Thus the Plains Indian culture area is in
general characterized by a large number of traits, among which
Wissler mentions dependence upon the bison, the tipi as a mov-
able dwelling, a special bead technique, a strongly geometric
type of art, and the simple band as the unit of social organization.
In such an agglomeration of culture traits we can discern some
which are functionally related to each other. For example, the
use of bison hide in the construction of the tipi, coupled with the
need for a movable dwelling, can be associated with the dominant
food-getting activity — bison hunting — which entails a nomadic
existence to which the simple hunting band is probably the most
appropriate form of social organization. But such traits as special
bead techniques and geometric art do not appear to bear any
necessary relation to the major institutional activities of the Plains
Indians.
The concept of the culture area, then, is a geographical and not
an anthropological one, in the sense in which the functionalist
uses the term. It is useful for purposes of superficial surveys and
as providing a general impression of some of the dominant
characteristics of different groups of cultures. But as an instru-
ment of scientific analysis it is useless, and may even be dangerous
as leading to an entirely wrong conception of culture as a mere
agglomeration of traits. Thus we might say that the culture area
of Great Britain is characterized by monarchy, the smoking of
8. A. I — 4
24 THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
tobacco, the keeping of dogs as pets, the use of coal and electricity
in industry, Christianity, cricket and a high development of the
practice of navigation. We could go on ad nauseam enumerating
such culture traits without even beginning to understand the
culture of Great Britain as a mechanism for the satisfaction of
human needs, composed of interrelated institutions within the
framework of which any isolated culture trait must be considered.
Another type of comparative method seeks to classify cultures
on the basis, not of objective culture traits, but upon a subjective
assessment of what are called patterns of culture* This method,
sometimes referred to as the configurationist approach, seeks to
assess the dominant psychological values in each culture and to
compare one culture with another on this basis. It is certainly
preferable to the method previously described, in that it treats
each culture as an integrated whole and not as a hotchpotch of
traits. Unfortunately, however, it has too often led to an over-
simplified and superficial impression of the cultures considered.
In various attempts to construct neat and consistent “patterns”,
casual impressions have replaced the orderly scientific examina-
tions of cultural facts; subjective judgments have been used as a
substitute for ethnographic documentation; and the postulation
of consistent and all-pervasive cultural trends has given an attrac-
tive but distorted picture of some at least of the cultures studied in
this way, as can be demonstrated by a critical re-examination of
the ethnographic evidence . 1
Actually, no scientific and comprehensive technique of cultural
comparison has yet been devised. Such a technique w r ould involve
the comparison of functional relationships between cultural
phenomena in a series of cultures, since such relationships are the
real facts of anthropological science. A few such studies have been
made, for example, Professor Radcliffe-Brown’s analysis of types
of kinship terminology and social organization in Australia in
terms of marriage practices and other culturally defined relation-
ships between kin. Again there are such works as Professor Firth’s
brief comparative survey of certain kinship usages in Polynesia,
Professor Schapera’s comparative studies of different Bantu legal
systems and Dr. Audrey Richards’ review of nutritional practices
among the southern Bantu. One of the best comparative studies
published so far is Dr. S. F. Nadel’s survey of the peoples of the
Nuba Mountains. Here the author discerns an underlying sub-
1 See, for example, Li An-Che (i).
CLASSIFICATION AND COMPARISON 25
stratum of something which can be called “Nuba Culture”, but
also discusses the extensive and detailed tribal variations which
occur from one Nuba community to another. This work combines
the comparative concept of culture areas with the functionalist’s
appreciation of the integral individuality of the culture of every
human community.
However, the above-mentioned comparative studies, valuable
as they are, are limited in their geographical scope. What is
needed is some technique of cultural comparison which would
enable us, for example, to compare institutions of chieftainship in
Africa and in Polynesia in terms of the magico-religious sanctions
which support them or in terms of their economic implications.
While there are many excellent studies of such functional relation-
ships in individual cultures, no comprehensive technique of
comparison exists. In the present state of our knowledge, the
most which we can do is to institute ad hoc comparisons that illus-
trate similarities and differences in cultural relationships — for
example, to compare the potlatch, the Feasts of Merit of the Nagas
and the Chins and the systems of social advancement in Malaita
as illustrating a fundamental type of relationship between wealth
and prestige, but one which operates in a different way in the
various cultures concerned.
Since classification is impossible without a technique of com-
parison, it follows that there is no really satisfactory way of
classifying human cultures. We can, it is true, adopt different
criteria such as patriliny or matriliny, segmented or stratified
political organization and so on. But this does not help us towards
a scientific classification, since we find some segmented societies
which are patrilineal and others w’hich are matrilineal, and the
same applies to stratified societies. Here again our categories are
instituted ad hoc according to the purpose of our investigation.
Probably the most useful general type of classification of cul-
tures is according to the dominant type of food-getting activity.
We can classify certain primitive peoples either as hunters and
food-gatherers, agriculturists or pastoralists, and this is particu-
larly significant in view of Professor Gordon Childe’s demonstra-
tion of the importance of these types of ecological activity in
determining the development of human culture in prehistoric
times. But in dealing with contemporary primitive peoples, such
criteria can be applied to a limited extent only and must be em-
ployed with caution. As we shall see, most primitive peoples have
26 THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
more than one type of food-getting activity. The dividing-line
between the different categories is sometimes hard to draw, for
example, in the case of certain Amerindian food-gatherers who
take some care of the growth of the plants on which they subsist
but do not plant seed and cannot therefore be called agricultur-
ists. Again, if we compare the Yukaghir with other peoples of
North-eastern Asia, we find that the former are “hunters and
food-gatherers” while the latter are “pastoralists”. Yet all these
communities are largely dependent upon the reindeer for food,
and possess very much the same type of culture, the significant
difference being that while most of the peoples concerned keep
domesticated herds, the Yukaghir do not. Finally, the broad
correlations which are evident in prehistory between ecology on
the one hand and socio-economic life on the other exist in con-
temporary primitive societies as general tendencies only. Thus
Childe has demonstrated the importance of the availability of an
economic surplus in the transition from hunting and food-gather-
ing to agricultural or pastoral stages in prehistoric cultures. Yet
we find that the primitive peoples of the north-west coast of
America who were hunters and food-gatherers had an economic
surplus far more abundant than that of many agricultural and
pastoral peoples.
The general conclusion of this section is that though compari-
sons may be made and classifications instituted ad hoc y social
anthropology is at present not equipped with any really adequate
technique either for comparison or classification. This is greatly
to be regretted, and gives some substance to the criticism that
functional anthropologists, in their preoccupation with analyses
of individual cultures, have not devoted suff icient attention to the
wider comparative tasks which our science must ultimately under-
take. But things being as they are, it is better to confess ignorance
than to institute cultural comparisons which are superficial,
misleading or pretentious.
8. Past and Present in the Study of Primitive Culture
The reader may wonder why our definition of the tasks of
social anthropology has not included any reference to the study
of the history of primitive cultures. Surely, it may be asked, such
a study is not only important in itself, but vital to an understand-
ing of the present? Thirty years ago the majority of British
anthropologists would have answered in the affirmative, as would
PAST AND PRESENT
27
most American anthropologists today. But the adoption of the
functional method necessarily rules out the majority of problems
of origin, not because they are unimportant, but because it is
impossible to study them scientifically.
Reconstructions of the history of early forms of culture are very
broadly of two kinds, evolutionary and diffusionist. The former
seeks to reconstruct the beginnings of human culture in terms of
what has been called “conjectural history”, based upon the
“known principles of human nature”. The difficulty about such
reconstruction is that it is possible to adopt an almost infinite
variety of conjectures. Thus volumes have beer devoted to heated
arguments as to whether the family preceded the clan as the basic
unit of social organization, whether patriliny preceded matriliny,
and whether the worship of ancestors did or did not come before
the worship of nature. In dealing with any such two alternative
hypotheses, it is possible to adduce evidence of a sort to support
either, but the answer really depends upon one’s own personal
conjectures about the “known principles of human nature”,
concerning which there is profound disagreement.
To this it must be added that prehistoric archaeology, relying
as it does upon empirical evidence rather than conjecture, can
give us a very general outline of the early forms of socio-economic
life. But because of the limitations of the evidence, it cannot
throw any light on the more detailed types of historical problems
mentioned above.
The evolutionary theories of the nineteenth century regarded
the varying types of primitive cultures as “survivals” of stages of
social life through which our own ancestors once passed in an
evolutionary process, the culminating point of which was Euro-
pean civilization. When similarities between elements of culture
were found in different parts of the world, they were explained
by the hypothesis of parallelism or parallel development , based
upon the universal similarities of the human mind. The classic
example of this is the couvade . This is a custom whereby, when a
woman is confined, her husband retires to his couch, receives
visits from friends, and in general imitates symbolically the
confinement of his wife. This custom is found among certain
South American Indian tribes, and was also practised by peasants
in the Pyrenees until comparatively recently. Obviously, claimed
the parallclists, there had been no contact between these peoples,
and the similarity in custom must be explained by the operation of
28 THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
similar psychological processes in the two widely separated areas.
They applied the hypothesis of parallel development to all
aspects of human culture — to artefacts, to religion and to social
organization — and some went so far as to affirm that all cultural
similarities could be explained in this way.
But this extreme view was challenged by an opposing school,
which attributed cultural similarities to diffusion, the process
whereby forms of technology, beliefs and social customs are
learned by one people from another. Here again there are certain
clear examples. If we take the islands of the Central Pacific
Ocean, we find a number of cultural similarities, for example, in the
types of fish-hooks employed, in the names of gods such as
Tangaloa, Tane and Maui, and in the prohibitions connected
with the word tapu or tabu , from which our own word “taboo” is
derived. Quite clearly these striking similarities in technology, in
terminology and in social custom could not have originated
independently in all of the many islands of the Pacific, therefore
they must have diffused from one area to others.
While there are thus quite clear examples both of parallel
development and of diffusion, and the operation of both is now
generally recognized, a very large number of similarities are a
matter of dispute. Thus the blowgun, a hollow tube through
which a poisoned dart is blown, is found in two widely separated
parts of the world — in South-east Asia and in South America.
Was this weapon invented separately in the two areas, or was it
carried by early men to both from a single point of origin or
centre of diffusion? As with evolutionary hypotheses, the answer
to this question depends upon personal conjecture. One guess is
as good as another. And, with the exception of purely local pro-
cesses of diffusion, this is broadly true of the majority of historical
reconstructions in anthropology. Such reconstructions, moreover,
necessarily treat human cultures as mere agglomerations of
individual traits rather than as integrated systems of human
adaptation. They have therefore had a deleterious effect upon
research work in the field and upon theoretical interpretation.
They are not, in fact, “historical” in the sense in which modern
historians understand the term.
Detailed arguments in support of these contentions have been
presented in another work 1 to which the sceptical reader is
invited to refer. At this stage we shall merely reduce the method-
1 Piddington (5).
PAST AND PRESENT
29
ological assumptions of functionalism, in contradistinction to the
diffusionist schools of historical reconstruction, to a series of
short statements :
1. Since all elements and aspects of culture are interrelated,
no element or aspect can be scientifically understood in isolation,
that is, apart from its cultural context.
2. In view of the lack of written records and the inadequacy
of archaeological data in the case of primitive cultures, historical
reconstruction, so far as it is not mere guesswork, must necessarily
concentrate on isolated elements or aspects, particularly in the
field of material culture.
3. Historical reconstruction cannot therefore be scientific, in
the sense in which the functionalist uses the term.
Functionalism, then, is not ‘‘opposed to history” as such.
Sometimes, but only very rarely, it is possible to study historical
problems contextually. The real objection is to the pulverizing
technique which concentrates on details of culture torn from their
context. This is inevitable in the case of almost all problems of
historical reconstruction. Some ethnologists admit the tenets of
functionalism and at the same time affirm the value of existing
types of historical reconstruction. They resemble the man de-
scribed by the uneducated woman in one of Galsworthy’s plays:
“I’m a Catholic, and my husband’s a Catholic too, but then, he’s
an atheist as well.”
g. Bibliographical Commentary
There is no better brief introduction to our subject than Firth
(1). If possible this should be read by all students before pro-
ceeding further in the present work. In addition to discussing the
main problems with which social anthropologists are concerned,
the first chapter of Firth’s book contains a brief review of the
concept of race and a criticism of some popular assumptions
concerning alleged racial differences in mental capacity and
temperament. On this subject see also Huxley and Haddon, We
Europeans (1935), Ashley Montagu (2) and Morant (1).
Though we have drawn a distinction between the three
anthropological sciences, it must be mentioned that this special-
ization is a recent development in Great Britain. The three dis-
ciplines started as a single science, as will be seen by glancing at
Marett, Anthropology (1912). The activities of the Royal Anthro-
pological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland cover all three
THE SCIENCE OF PRIMITIVE CULTURE
30
sciences, and in America there is still an insistence upon their
unity. But the growing tendency in Great Britain is towards a
threefold specialization, made essential by the differences in
method and scope between the three sciences. No one today can
be an anthropologist, in the old sense of the term, unless he is to be
jack of all trades and master of none. Though it is true that social
anthropology, for example, has many points of contact with
physical anthropology and with prehistoric archaeology, these
are neither more numerous nor more significant than those with
such social sciences as psychology, economics and comparative
jurisprudence.
On the other hand, it is desirable that students of social anthro-
pology should know something of the other anthropological
sciences, and for this purpose reference may be made to Elliot
Smith (1), Stibbe (1), Howells (1) and Childe (1-3).
The concept of culture discussed briefly in Section (2) will be
elaborated in Chapter VI, where references to further reading are
provided. Though the subjects of culture contact and the de-
velopment of backward peoples are not dealt with in the present
volume, the reader is recommended to refer to Malinowski (11),
and to Mair (4) for general statements of the scientific and
political problems involved and, as a few examples of the many
excellent studies of culture change which have been carried out,
to Brown and Hutt (1), Fei (1), Hogbin (5), Hunter (2), Keesing
(1), Mair (3) and Richards (4). The important subject of methods
of field-work, again, is not discussed in the present volume, but
reference may be made to the Introduction to Malinowski (1),
to Nadel (7) and to Richards (5).
As regards the American concepts of culture trait, culture
complex and culture area briefly mentioned in Section 7, see
Wissler (1). For the examples of comparative studies carried out
in the light of functional principles mentioned in the same
section, see Radcliffe-Brown (2), Schapera (1, Chapters VIII and
IX), Firtli (8, Chapter XVI), Richards (1) and Nadel (5).
CHAPTER II
A COOKS’ TOUR OF PRIMITIVE PEOPLES—
AFRICA AND AMERICA
/. The Variety of Primitive Cultures
The teacher of social anthropology is at a disadvantage compared
with other scientists in introducing his students to their subject-
matter. He has no laboratory, and even ethnological museums,
photographs and the exhibition of ethnographic films give but a
partial impression of the variety and vitality of primitive cultures.
It is impossible to charter an aeroplane and take students to an
African kraal, an Australian aborigines’ camp or a Melanesian
village, where they could observe the day-to-day life and cere-
monial activities of primitive peoples. Yet some superficial ac-
quaintance with primitive life is essential before w r e can under-
take our real task — the scientific analysis of the cultural relation-
ships of human beings to each other, to their natural environment
and to the supernatural forces in which they believe. We shall
therefore embark upon a brief and partial survey of our subject-
matter, a Cooks' Tour of Primitive Culture.
This chapter and the next are intended to introduce the reader
to the ways of life of primitive peoples. They contain little
scientifically organized information, and consist mainly of what
might be called “ethnographic gossip”. For this reason the
reader should not pay too much attention to memorizing material
contained in them, though they should be read carefully in order
to obtain a conspectus of the types of culture with which social
anthropology is primarily concerned. It must be emphasized that
the treatment of primitive cultures in these chapters is not only
superficial but also very attenuated. The beginner may be struck
by the number of peoples mentioned, but these constitute a very
minute proportion of the primitive peoples of the world. This will
be realized when it is recalled that there are over two hundred
native tribes in South Africa and that, so far as the New World is
concerned, it has been estimated that there were more than two
thousand tribes in North America alone. The Pacific, though its
3 *
COOKS' TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
3 *
cultures are conveniently divided into Polynesian, Melanesian
and Micronesian, likewise contains a bewildering variety of
cultures. Even the Australian aborigines, who possess a more
or less homogeneous type of culture, present important tribal
variations. It will thus be realized that although neighbouring
tribes throughout the world are often found to share a similar
type of culture, there nevertheless exists an enormous variety of
types of cultural adjustment in primitive society. Students should
therefore beware of such statements as those beginning: “Among
primitive peoples . . or even “Among the Australian aborigines
. . .” Accurate statements should be couched in such terms as “In
the Aranda tribe . . “Among certain African tribes . .
“On the North-west coast of America . . or even “Among
some primitive peoples. . .
A point which must be stressed is the wealth and complexity of
each primitive culture. Thus, for Tikopia, a small Pacific island
with a population of about 1,300, Professor Firth has written
three major works totalling over 1,350 pages, as well as numerous
articles. It will therefore be realized that most ethnographic
records cover only certain very limited aspects of the cultures
concerned. Furthermore, in many field records, particularly the
older ones, much of the material recorded is not scientifically
relevant, and the functional interrelationships of cultural elements
and institutions are largely neglected. As we have already said,
the study of these interrelationships constitutes the real task of
the science of social anthropology.
Finally, it should be noted that the locations of peoples given
in these chapters and in Appendix A are only approximate. No
useful purpose would be served by giving a precise definition of
tribal boundaries. This would be a lengthy procedure in view of
the fact that these boundaries by no means coincide with modern
political divisions. The latter provide easily memorized orienta-
tions, but it must be emphasized that tribes referred to as in-
habiting, for example, an African colony or a state of the U.S.A.
did not usually cover the whole of the area mentioned, and on
the other hand frequently extended beyond its boundaries into
one or more neighbouring divisions. Such extensions are some-
times but not always mentioned. Moreover, the habitat of certain
tribes has often changed in comparatively recent times as a result
of indigenous wars of conquest or other factors, while many tribes
have been wholly or partially exterminated, or have lost practic-
THE CULTURES OF AFRICAN PEOPLES 33
ally all of their original culture under the influence of modern
civilization. In this connection reference should be made to what
was said on p. 7 concerning the use of tenses in anthropological
description.
2. The Cultures of African Peoples
The classification of African communities is made difficult by
the many migrations of peoples which have taken place on the
continent over many centuries. These have led to extensive racial,
linguistic and cultural admixture. The reconstructions of these
migrations of peoples and cultures are often highly speculative,
and do not usually contribute much to our understanding of
present-day conditions.
Most classifications of African peoples are based upon some-
what confused criteria of language, race and culture. Such terms
as “Bantu”, “Hamitic”, and “Negro” are variously used to
denote racial, linguistic and cultural groups. And the boundaries
of these different types of groups, even when they can be defined
with some degree of accuracy, by no means coincide. Even when
each of the three criteria is taken separately, classifications are
the subject of considerable controversy, and many “marginal”
or “hybrid” communities occur.
As regards language, the following is a simplified version of one
classification, but it must be emphasized that the treatment is
very sketchy and the delimitation of language groups is only
approximate :
1. Eastern Hamitic . — This group of languages is spoken over an
area of North-east Africa, roughly between the Equator and
latitude 25 0 North. The area is bounded to the west approxi-
mately by latitude 30° East.
2. Western Hamitic . — The central and north-west Sahara.
3. Semitic . — Most of the languages of North Africa from Senegal
in the west to Egypt in the east are Semitic, though there exists
a considerable amount of Hamitic admixture in this area.
4. West African Languages . — These are numerous, and include
Sudanic Negro speech, Hausa, Ewe and Yoruba.
5. Bantu. — This is the most extensive language group of Africa.
Bantu languages arc spoken by African peoples south of
the Equator except the Bushmen and the Hottentots, who
form small but distinct linguistic groups.
The description of African languages is beyond the scope of this
34 COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
work, but reference should be made to a feature of Bantu lan-
guages which is apt to lead to misunderstanding. Students reading
works on the Bantu-speaking peoples of Africa may easily be con-
fused by the system of classifiers typical of Bantu languages. These
are prefixes which arc functionally not unlike the gender suffixes
of Indo-European languages, in that they serve to classify the
verbal stems to which they are attached. Gender, however, is not
usually a basis of classification. As many as nineteen classifiers
exist in individual Bantu languages to indicate such categories as
singular, plural, people, language and size. Thus, among the
Ganda of Uganda, prefixes placed before the stem “-ganda”
indicate classification as follows:
Ba-: people.
Mu-: person.
Bu-: country.
Lu-: language.
Thus, for example, a person walking through Buganda, the terri-
tory of the Baganda, might meet a Muganda, who would speak
to him in Luganda. This usage is apt to lead to confusion over
tribal names, which arc sometimes used with, and sometimes
without, their Bantu tribal prefix — for example, Bemba or
Babemba, Hehe or Wahehe. In this work the common procedure
of dropping the Bantu prefix has been adopted. It will help
students in identifying Bantu peoples to recall that the common
tribal prefixes are: Ba-, Wa-, A- and Ama-.
The classification of African peoples according to culture is
even more difficult than in the case of language. Several classifica-
tions have been attempted, but none is entirely satisfactory. The
following division, based primarily upon ecology and environ-
ment, will serve as a rough guide to some of the main types of
African culture:
1 . The Western Forest Region . — This comprises the coastal region
of West Africa and also part of Central Africa, where it
overlaps the Bantu area.
2. Western Park-land and Semi-desert Cultures . — These occupy the
belt of country in West Africa which joins the forest regions
in the south with the Sahara Desert in the north. These are
primarily pastoral cultures, including some camel-keeping
peoples to the north.
3. The Sahara and marginal regions , sparsely populated by camel-
keeping peoples.
THE CULTURES OF AFRICAN PEOPLES 35
4* The Anglo-Egyptian Sudan , comprising pastoral and agri-
cultural peoples.
5. The Bantu area . — This comprises the whole of the southern
Map I ; Some Cultures of Africa
part of the continent, inhabited by pastoral and/or agri-
cultural Bantu-speaking peoples, except for the Bushmen and
Hottentots of South-west Africa, who form two small inde-
pendent cultural enclaves.
3®
COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
3. Hunting and Food-gathering Peoples of Africa
Although the ecology of most African tribes is based upon
agricultural or pastoral pursuits, or upon a combination of the
two, there exist on the continent a few isolated communities
which subsist entirely upon hunting and food gathering. Of these,
the best known are the Bushmen of the Kalahari Desert of South
Africa and the Pygmies of the Belgian Congo.
The Bushmen lived entirely upon the products of the chase and
the gathering of wild vegetable foods. The men hunted larger
game, such as the wildebeest, buffalo and zebra, by means of bows
and arrows, snares and traps; the women collected roots, berries
and other vegetable foods, and also such minor additions to the
diet as lizards, termites and locusts. The women were also res-
ponsible for the building of shelters, the collection of fire-wood and
water, cooking and the tending of children. Owing to the need
for mobility, Bushman material culture was necessarily simple.
Dwellings took the form of temporary shelters, such as caves or
rude huts made of brushwood and bark. Clothing, which was
made of skins, was scanty. The Bushmen were dependent upon
neighbouring tribes for ironwork, pottery, baskets and certain
ornaments. On the other hand, their pictorial art was highly
developed and their rock paintings depicting hunting scenes
resemble those of Palaeolithic Europe.
There is little reliable information about the social organization
of the Bushmen. They were apparently organized into small
hunting bands which split up from time to time into family
groups. The territory of each hunting band was defined by
natural features of the landscape, and over this territory the band
in question held exclusive hunting rights. Moreover, members of
individual families had the right to appropriate such finds as nests
of ostrich eggs or beehives. An arrow was stuck into the ground
near such finds to indicate family ownership. It is true that another
family, if in dire need, might make use of such a source of
food, but they were under an obligation to notify the owners
afterwards. Large game brought into a camp was generally
shared, but the individual hunter kept the valuable hide and
sinews for himself and directed the distribution of the meat.
Another group of hunting and food-gathering peoples are the
Pygmies of the Belgian Congo. Unlike the Bushmen, they are not
all self-supporting. Bands of Pygmy hunters are attached to negro
AFRICAN HUNTERS AND FOOD-GATHERERS 37
villages under the suzerainty of a negro chief. The Pygmy hunters
supply meat to the negro villagers in exchange for agricultural
produce. Rights over hunting territories and over the distribution
of game appear to be similar to those of the Bushmen. In addition
to the Bushmen and the Pygmies, isolated hunting groups occur
in part of North-east Africa, notably the Dorobo, who acted as
hunters for the Masai.
4. African Pastor alisis
The ecology of many African tribes is founded exclusively or
primarily on pastoral pursuits. The prevalence of the tsetse-fly,
carrier of sleeping sickness, makes cattle-keeping impossible over
large areas, notably the west central region, the Coast of West
Africa and part of East Africa. The Sahara and neighbouring
regions arc too arid to support large numbers of cattle. But
among most eastern tribes, from the Sudan in the north to the
Cape of Good Hope in the south, cattle are kept, and among
certain tribes assume a predominant importance. Sometimes both
milk and meat are consumed, but many pastoral tribes are re-
luctant to slaughter their cattle for food. The economic import-
ance of pastoral pursuits among these people is reflected in the
social value and ceremonial observances centring around cattle.
Among these, one of the most important is the handing over of
cattle at marriage by the bridegroom and his relatives to the kin
of the bride. This particular form of bride-price is often referred
to by the generic term lobola, which is one of the Bantu names
for the practice.
In other respects also the pastoral peoples of East Africa attach
a more than economic importance to their herds. Cattle are often
divided into special herds according to their colour and, among
certain tribes, beasts have individual names. Numerous magico-
religious observances centre around cattle, which are frequently
used as sacrifices to ancestors. Thus among the Hcrero of South-
west Africa there exist altars upon which burn sacred fires which
may never be extinguished, and around these altars are piled the
horns of sacrificed animals. Cattle are also important in the legal
and political life of African pastoral peoples, and are the usual
form in which tribute is levied by chiefs and fines paid by
offenders.
Among certain pastoral peoples, particularly those of the north-
east, agriculture is despised or neglected. Thus the Nuer of the
38 COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
southern Sudan, though they practise some cultivation, rely
primarily upon the milk from their herds of cattle, to which a very
great social importance is attached — as Professor Evans-Pritchard
remarks, “most of their social activities concern cattle and
cherchez la vache is the best advice that can be given to those who
desire to understand Nuer behaviour”. The Masai, again, live
almost exclusively upon the meat, blood and milk of their cattle,
and despise agriculture and hunting. It is true that a lion hunter
among the Masai is honoured, but hunting for food is regarded
as a contemptible pursuit and is relegated to a serf class, the
Dorobo. Among the Masai the ceremonial drinking of blood and
milk forms a covenant establishing blood brotherhood between
men. Similarly, the drinking of ox blood, accompanied by an
oath, is a form of ordeal undergone by men accused of crimes.
The Hottentots of South-west Africa likewise relied mainly
upon herds of cattle and sheep and, to a lesser extent, on hunting.
Unlike the Bantu, the Hottentots assigned dairy work to women,
and this again was surrounded by ceremonial observances, for
example, a menstruating woman was obliged to abstain from
milking until she had been ceremonially purified after her period.
The Hottentots seldom slaughtered their cattle or sheep except on
ceremonial occasions.
The Fulani of West Africa are another group of pastoral
peoples. Here, too, the women do the milking, and the slaughter
of animals is confined to ceremonial occasions such as weddings,
the naming of children and the observance of Mohammedan
festivals. Cattle are inherited in the male line, the inheritance
being divided according to the colour of the beasts; thus the
eldest son takes all the black cattle, while the white beasts are
shared among the younger sons.
In the arid regions in and around the Sahara Desert, camels
are of primary importance. One of the camel-keeping peoples of
the western Sahara are the Tuareg, or “People of the Veil”. The
name is derived from the custom whereby men wear a black veil
over their face, though the women go unveiled, a reversal of the
usual Mohammedan practice. The Tuareg subsist primarily
upon milk from camels, sheep and goats, and occasionally meat.
Grain is also important in their food supply, though agriculture is
despised. According to a Tuareg proverb, “Shame enters a
family that tills the soil”, and cultivation is normally carried out
by negro slaves. The Tuareg carry on extensive trade and pur-
AFRICAN PASTORALISTS 39
chase cattle from the Fulani. A feature of Tuareg life is the
annual trading expedition from Air to Bilma, a distance of about
three hundred miles. The object of this is to secure salt, which is
extensively traded in the western Sahara. These expeditions over
barren country are elaborate enterprises, and usually about five
thousand camels are involved.
The Kababish of Kordorfan are a marginal people whose
ecology represents a combination of that of the camel-keeping
people to the west and the cattle-keeping Hamites to the east.
Both types of beast are important, but the emphasis is upon
camels, which are of greater significance both economically and
ceremonially and are normally used for sacrifice.
5. Agricultural Peoples of Africa and Mixed Ecologies
In certain parts of Africa, notably those affected by the tsetse-
fly, the natives rely almost exclusively on agriculture for subsis-
tence. Various grains, yams, and also cassava or manioc (a plant
with starchy tuberous roots), form the staple diet for different
tribes, supplemented by vegetables, ground-nuts, mushrooms and
other relishes. Some African agriculturists practise rotation of
crops, but others rely upon shifting cultivation, moving from one
area to another as the soil becomes exhausted. A good example of
the latter type of agriculture is the citemene method of agriculture
practised by the Bemba and certain other East African tribes.
The method employed is to clear the undergrowth, to pollard the
trees, and to burn the brushwood and branches so obtained to
make clear patches of ash-fertilized soil. In African agriculture,
the hoe is the typical implement employed, though ploughs are
found sporadically, particularly in the north-east, and have been
introduced elsewhere in historic times by Europeans.
African agriculture is always based upon a traditional division
of labour between the sexes, but the nature of this division varies
greatly from one tribe to another. Thus in some tribes the men
participate in all agricultural operations, while in others their
work is confined to heavy labour, such as clearing the bush and
hoeing. Agriculture among African peoples is the focus of numer-
ous magico-religious observances, for example, rain-making
ceremonies, the ceremonial eating of the first-fruits and the
making of sacrifices to secure fertility.
Though three main types of African ecology have been men-
tioned, it must be emphasized that in the vast majority of cases
s . a . 1—5
4 o COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
these are not exclusive- Most African peoples have more than one
type of food-getting activity. Even the Pygmy hunters and food
gatherers secure agricultural produce by exchange. Both pastoral
and agricultural peoples normally supplement their diet by
hunting, food gathering and frequently fishing. Usually one or
other type of food-getting activity is predominant. Thus the
Nuba, though they practise a certain amount of hunting and
animal husbandry, are primarily agriculturists. The methods
used in stacking and threshing grain by one group of the Nuba
are shown in Plate II.
Most Bantu tribes, particularly in the south, have a mixed
ecology, in which both cattle-keeping and agriculture are im-
portant, though cattle are of primary ceremonial and social
significance. Most predominantly pastoral peoples practise a
certain amount of agriculture, even though this may be relegated
to an inferior class. An interesting example of this type of organ-
ization occurs in Ankole, where there exist two distinct strata in
the population. The ruling class are the pastoral Bahima, said to
be Hamitic migrants from the north, while agriculture is carried
out by the Bairu, who constitute an inferior social class of cultiva-
tors and craftsmen.
6. The American Indians
The term “Indian” was first used by Columbus in 1493 to
designate the aboriginal inhabitants of America, in the belief
that his voyage across the Atlantic had taken him to India. The
shorter term “Amerind” is occasionally used, but has not been
generally accepted. Its adjectival forms, Amerindian or Amer-
indic, however, provide convenient abbreviations.
The wholesale breakdown of primitive culture under the im-
pact of civilization started earlier and proceeded more rapidly in
North America than in most other parts of the world. Conse-
quently, the development of modern scientific field-work came too
late to provide a really adequate study of any aboriginal North
American community. In this field there exists much valuable
material on ecology and material culture, but it is difficult to
relate this adequately to social institutions. For South America,
where “untouched” primitive cultures are still to be found, the
amount of really adequate field material so far available is dis-
appointingly small.
In pre-Columbian times a large variety of Amerindian cultures
Stacking Grain
THE AMERICAN INDIANS 41
existed, from that of the primitive hunters and food-gatherers of
Tierra del Fuego to the Maya, Aztec and Inca civilizations.
Certain characteristics of Amerindian cultures are given in a
valuable series of maps in Wissler (2). These maps show the
distribution of various items of material culture, of patrilineal
and matrilineal clans, of culture areas and of types of food-
getting activity. The latter forms the most convenient starting-
point for a brief survey of Amerindian cultures. It must be em-
phasized that the food areas overlapped to a considerable extent,
and that the type-food was always supplemented by other items
of diet. Thus, though maize and manioc were the most important
staple foods of different groups of Amerindian agriculturists,
the list of subsidiary cultivated plants includes over twenty-five
varieties, and the native diet was also supplemented by hunting
and food-gathering.
7. Food Areas of the New World
Wissler distinguishes seven food areas in the New World (see
Map II):
i. The Caribou Area , covering the continent of North America
roughly north of the Canadian border. This was the habitat of
the caribou (the American variety of reindeer) and other large
ungulates. Ethnologically this region may be subdivided into two
areas : (a) the Caribou Area proper, consisting of most of Canada
except the northern littoral, and (b) the Eskimo area to the north,
in which the caribou as a source of food was less important
compared with sea mammals.
In the Caribou Area proper these animals, supplemented by
smaller game, and in the vicinity of lakes and rivers by fish and
wild-fowl, formed the staple diet of the Indians. Caribou were
hunted by stampeding the herds into narrow lanes or defiles or
into deep water, where they were despatched by hunters in
canoes. The large herds of caribou moved forward fairly fast,
grazing on the sparse vegetation of the tundra, and the bands of
hunters were forced to keep pace with them. As the rewards of a
successful hunting drive could neither be consumed on the spot
nor conveniently carried, the Indians of this area developed a
specialized type of cache. Each successful kill was dressed as quickly
as possible and buried or stowed away in an elevated position,
safe from the inroads of carnivorous beasts. Each group of
hunters thus had a series of hidden stores at various places, upon
42
COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
Map II. — Food Areas of the New World
{Aftir Wissler and others)
FOOD AREAS OF THE NEW WORLD
43
which they could draw in times of need. The ecology of the
Eskimo was more highly specialized than that of the Caribou
Area proper, and will be described in Section 8.
ii. The Maize Area . — The cultivation of maize was carried out
over an extensive area of America, including the eastern and
southern states of the U.S.A. (except Texas), also in Mexico, and
in the north-west and eastern coastal regions of South America.
The eastern maize area of the U.S.A. is the most important
ethnographic division of this area. An interesting feature of
American agriculture was that it was almost entirely women’s
work, the men being hunters.
iii. The Salmon Area of the North-west . — The north-west coast of
America from San Francisco Bay to Bering Strait was character-
ized by dependence on fishing. The streams draining into the
Pacific are visited annually by salmon, which penetrate to their
headwaters to spawn. At the periods of these annual “runs”, the
natives of the region gathered along the banks of the streams to
catch the fish by means of nets, harpoons and weirs. The major
portion of the large catches of fish so obtained was dried and
smoked to form a reserve of food. The natives of the coast and
adjacent islands also relied on sea fishing throughout the year,
and to a lesser extent on sea mammals. The coastal Indians lived
in permanent or semi-permanent villages, while those of the
hinterland tended to be nomadic, their annual movements being
determined by the salmon “runs”, and subsidiary food-gathering.
This region included the famous North-west coast culture area,
centring around the Queen Charlotte and Vancouver Islands,
and the adjacent coast of Canada. One of the most distinctive
cultural characteristics of this area was the potlatch, an elaborate
system of feasting accompanied by the distribution and some-
times destruction of property, particularly blankets, ornaments
known as “coppers”, and whale oil. There were considerable
variations in the form of this institution among different tribes
of the north-west coast. That of the Haida will be briefly described
in Section io.
iv. The Area of Wild Seeds . — To the south of the Salmon area, in
central and southern California, are found a group of predomin-
antly food-gathering peoples, subsisting on wild seeds, roots,
herbs and grasses. This region is sometimes referred to as the
“Acorn Area”, because on the uplands and mountains of south-
ern California the staple food consisted of acorns. Flour obtained
44 COOKS* TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
from these was treated with hot water to remove the large quan-
tity of tannic acid which it contained, and was made into bread
or cakes. Fish, and small quantities of game, were obtained
sporadically throughout this area. Lizards and grasshoppers were
also eaten.
Representative of this area are the Yokuts and the Paviosto.
The latter practised an ingenious method of irrigating patches of
ground on which grew grasses and bulbous plants. But they
neither planted vegetable foods nor worked the soil, consequently
they cannot be called agriculturists.
v. The Bison Area . — Between the Salmon and Wild Seed areas
to the west and the Maize Area to the east lay a region in which the
Indians depended for food mainly on the bison or American
buffalo. Large herds of these animals were hunted by methods
not unlike those of the Caribou Area. The Bison Area covered an
extensive strip of territory, from the Saskatchewan River in the
north to Texas in the south. It corresponded very roughly with
the Plains Indian Culture Area, though marginal Plains tribes
to the east practised agriculture (for example, the Hidatsa,
Omaha and Pawnee), while those to the west depended less on
the bison and more on deer and small game, and also on the
gathering of wild vegetable foods. But the central Plains Indians
relied almost exclusively on the bison, the flesh of which was
dried, pounded with stone hammers, sometimes together with
pulverized wild cherries, and stored in sealed bags. This form of
preserved meat, known as pemmican , would keep for months. It
should be mentioned that pemmican, made from the meat of
other animals and even from fish, was prepared by several Amer-
indian tribes outside the Bison Area.
vi. The Manioc Area . — Though maize was cultivated on the
north-eastern coastal area of South America and on the west
coast as far south as Santiago, its place as a staple crop in the
central and eastern regions was taken by manioc or cassava.
Hunting is also important in many parts of this area.
vii. The Guanaco Area . — From the interior of the Argentine
southwards to Cape Horn is a hunting area, where the Indians
were mainly dependent on the guanaco, a variety of wild llama,
which was hunted with bows and arrows and the bolas> an en-
tangling device made by joining together stones by means of
thongs, which, when thrown, tripped the quarry and brought it
to the ground. In the extreme south of this area there was an in-
FOOD AREAS OF THE NEW WORLD 45
creasing dependence upon fish and seals. These were practically
the only source of food of the natives of Tierra del Fuego, whose
ecology thus resembled to some extent that of the Eskimo.
Having surveyed the food areas of the New World, we may now
consider certain Amerindian peoples who are of special anthro-
pological interest.
<9. The Eskimo
To the north of the Caribou Area proper lies the territory of the
Eskimo, which covers the littoral of the northern coast of North
America including Labrador, of Greenland and of the neighbour-
ing islands. It extends westwards across the Bering Strait to the
easternmost tip of Asia. The Eskimo are of particular interest,
because of their highly specialized adjustment to their geo-
graphical environment.
An understanding of the seasonal cycle of the Eskimo is essential
to an appreciation of their culture. It is divided into four periods:
Winter . — As winter deepens, ice floes begin to form along the
coast. In order to breathe, the seals living in the sea below scratch
holes in the covering ice. It is upon this habit that the Eskimo
relics mainly for his winter food. The best-known method of
killing seals is for the hunter to wait beside the hole over which
he has placed some form of indicator, such as a feather. When this
moves, it shows that the seal has come to breathe, and the hunter
then thrusts his harpoon into its muzzle. As each seal has a number
of breathing holes, this is a wearisome and relatively unprofitable
method of food-getting. The Eskimo food supply in winter is
further limited by the very short period of daylight and by the
occurrence of fogs or blizzards which may make sealing impossible,
and may reduce an Eskimo community to a condition of
famine. The following is a description of the conditions which
may arise :
“While in times of plenty the home life is quite cheerful, the
house presents a sad and gloomy appearance if stormy weather
prevents the men from hunting. The stores are quickly consumed,
one lamp after another is extinguished, and everybody sits
motionless in the dark hut. . . . Their stoicism in enduring the
pangs of hunger is really wonderful. At last, when starvation is
menacing the sufferers, the most daring of the men resolves to
try his luck. Though the storm may rage over the icy plain, he
sets out to go sealing. For hours he braves the cold and stands
COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
46
waiting and watching at the breathing hole until he hears the
blowing of the seal and succeeds in killing it. . ♦ . If the hunter,
however, has tried in vain to procure food, if the storm does not
subside, the terrors of famine visit the settlement. The dogs are the
first to fall victims to the pressing hunger, and if the worst comes,
cannibalism is resorted to. But all these occurrences are spoken of
with the utmost horror. In such cases children particularly are
killed and eaten. Fortunately, however, such occurrences are very
rare.” 1
Seal blubber provides, in the absence of an adequate supply of
wood, the best fuel available to the Eskimo, being greatly superior
to the fat of the caribou hunted in summer.
Spring . — During the winter the Eskimo live in group setde-
ments, but with the approach of spring, about March, lanes of
water form in the ice. The settlements of winter break up into
their component families, which hunt seals in the open water or
stalk them as they lie basking on the remaining ice. This is the
breeding season for seals. With their young, they congregate in
large numbers, and hunting them at this time of the year is a
more profitable occupation than winter sealing. Large stores of
seal blubber are laid by, and the diet of seal meat is supple-
mented in certain areas by the musk ox — a slow-moving beast
which proves an easy prey to the Eskimo and which, with the
introduction of firearms, has been largely exterminated.
Summer . — By midsummer the snow has melted on land. Stunted
vegetation appears, and the Eskimo turn inland in search of the
caribou migrating northwards. The families reunite to form
hunting groups, living in summer camps, from which they hunt
the herds of caribou by the methods of ambushing or driving into
deep water, described above in connection with the southern part
of the Caribou area. Smaller animals, wild fowl, fish and very
small quantities of roots, berries and other vegetable foods also
contribute to the summer diet of the Eskimo.
Autumn . — At the end of summer, the Eskimo hunters return to
the shore. Few caribou are left near the coast and it is not yet
possible to undertake winter sealing. But if there is an abundance
of stored food from the summer hunting, the end of the year is
marked by a short period of comparative leisure, festivals and
social intercourse between Eskimo communities.
While the above sketch gives a brief outline of the seasonal
1 Boas (1), p. 574.
THE ESKIMO 47
cycle of the central Eskimo, it is important to point out that
significant variations occurred in the marginal areas. For example,
the Polar Eskimo of northern Greenland rely to a much greater
extent on sea, as distinct from land, mammals. Though the musk
ox and caribou are hunted during the spring and summer, they
are relatively less important. It appears that the accumulation of
food during the summer is less, and the unproductive autumn
period is sometimes one of famine. Rasmussen states that the
Polar Eskimo actually welcome the coming of “the great Dark”,
as autumn gives way to winter . 1 This may be due to the climatic
and ecological difference between the central and northern areas
just mentioned, but it is possible that he was misled by feigned
expressions of pleasure.
Farther to the south, in the sub-arctic areas of Alaska, South
Greenland and Labrador, the winter is milder, and the formation
of sea ice plays a decreasing part in the ecology of the Eskimo.
The same sea mammals provide food, but they are hunted from
kayaks (sec below) and boats in the open sea. In this area is found
the umiak , a broad-beamed open boat, which is used in the hunt-
ing of larger prey, including whales.
The culture of the Eskimo is admirably adapted to the necessary
limitations imposed by the environment. In winter the semi-
permanent settlements consist of the well-known snow-houses
(igloo) or similar structures of stone and slate, heated and lighted
by blubber lamps. The two requirements of warmth and ventila-
tion are ingeniously met by the structure of these houses. Cool air
enters through an entrance passage, and spreads out over the
floor, where the temperature is nearly always below freezing-
point. It rises slowly, being heated by the blubber lamps, and
finally escapes through a tiny ventilation hole in the roof. The
Eskimo household sits and sleeps on platforms at the warmer
upper levels where the temperature sometimes becomes so high
that they have to divest themselves of most or all of their clothing.
For summer dwellings, the Eskimo build tents of skins stretched
over wooden poles — formerly narwhal tusks or whale-bones — the
skins being held to the ground by heavy stones.
The Eskimo have likewise devised means to protect themselves
from the climate when out of doors; for example, their heavy
clothing of tailored skins. Snow goggles were made as a protection
against snow blindness. These consisted of a mask completely
1 Rasmussen, People of the Polar North , pp. 79-80.
COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
48
covering the eyes except for two narrow slits through which the
wearer could see.
The Eskimo kayak is a light canoe which accommodates one
person or occasionally two. It is probably, for its size, the most
seaworthy vessel ever invented. It consists of a light wooden
framework completely covered with skins sewn together in such
a way that there is only a small hole just large enough to surround
the trunk of the man who navigates it. The air is thus hermetically
sealed within the skin covering, so that the kayak can turn upside
down without sinking. In fact, a “parlour trick” of the kayak
boatman is to tilt his vessel over sideways, submerging himself,
and finally coming up on the other side, so that the kayak rotates
through 360° on its longitudinal axis. The advantages of a vessel
so constructed in a rough and choppy sea are obvious.
Other items of the highly elaborate material culture of the
Eskimo, such as their ingenious harpoons, cannot be described
here. Those interested should consult the works cited in (he
bibliographical commentary, and should also, if possible, study
(he Eskimo specimens displayed in a good ethnological museum.
The social culture of the Eskimo may likewise be correlated
with their economic adjustment. It will be clear that the dispersal
of their settlements and their seasonal nomadism makes any form
of elaborate political organization impossible. Leadership in
economic pursuits falls naturally to those possessing the greatest
knowledge and skill in the activity concerned. Organized warfare
is virtually unknown, and there are hardly any instances of
armed conflict between communities. Conflicts over land and
movable wealth do not arise. Beliefs in sorcery are virtually absent
except in Greenland, illness and other misfortune being attributed
to breach of taboo. The cause of illness is diagnosed by a magician,
various methods being employed. For example, the magician
may subject a sick man to a sort of inquisition, asking such
questions as, “Did you work when it was forbidden?” or “Did
you eat when you were not allowed to eat?” — questions which the
invalid is supposed to answer truthfully. When the cause has been
diagnosed by this or other methods the magician prescribes some
form of atonement, such as forbidding the villagers to wash for a
number of days or imposing restrictions on their diet.
One factor in the peaceful character of Eskimo life is the toler-
ant attitude towards extra-marital intercourse. This probably
tends to minimize quarrels over women. A man may lend his wife
THE ESKIMO
49
to a visitor as a part of the obligations of hospitality or may assign
her to a friend for a season or even longer. Ceremonial wife-
exchange is obligatory as part of the autumn festivals. In spite of
this, however, it is recorded that quarrels sometimes arise from
jealousy over women, though they are far less common than in
many other primitive communities.
No detailed account of the causes of quarrels among the Eskimo
is available, but it is recorded that they sometimes lead to
homicide. This places an obligation to retaliate upon the nearest
relative of the victim. The retaliation consists of killing the
murderer, or occasionally a member of his family. This second
homicide, however, may not be avenged, so that the vendetta is
unknown. Murderers and other criminals might sometimes be
killed by anyone simply as a matter of justice, but this could not
be done without the unanimous consent of the community.
An interesting and unique method of settling disputes among the
Eskimo is for one party to challenge the other to a satirical song
contest. Each party composes a satirical song about the other,
and on an appointed day they meet in public and sing their
respective songs. The man who receives the greater acclaim is
regarded as the winner and his rival correspondingly loses
prestige.
The central theme of Eskimo religion is the myth of Sedna,
from which arise many taboos and religious observances. Sedna
was a woman who lived alone with her father. Though she had
many suitors, she refused to marry until a fulmar (a kind of
petrel) came and enticed her away by promising her a life of rela-
tive comfort and luxury among his people. She consented and
went with him, but when they reached his country she was
bitterly disappointed, for her new home was a wretched habita-
tion and she had nothing to eat but poor-quality fish. She re-
gretted her foolish pride in rejecting her other suitors and cried
out to her father to come and take her home. When he came to
visit her he was outraged at the way his daughter had been
treated, killed the fulmar, and took her off in his boat on the home-
ward journey. When the other fulmars returned to find their
companion dead and his wife gone, they set out in pursuit, giving
vent to mournful cries which fulmars utter to this day. As they
overtook the fugitives in their boat, they stirred up a tremendous
storm. The father was terrified and decided to offer Sedna to the
birds. He threw her overboard, but she clung to the gunwale of
50
COOKS* TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
the boat with her hands. The father then took a knife and cut off
the first joints of her fingers, which fell into the sea and became
whales, the nails forming the whalebone. Sedna still clung to the
boat, so her father cut off the second finger joints of her hands
and these joints became seals. Then he cut off the stumps of her
fingers, which became ground seals. In one version of the myth
he gouged out her left eye with his steering paddle, so that Sedna
is now envisaged as a sort of female Cyclops. There are different
versions of the conclusion of the story, but the upshot of them is
that Sedna went down into the lower world, where she lives in a
house with her father and receives the souls of the dead. She
controls the weather and the sea mammals, the more important
of which, it will be remembered, are derived from the joints of
her fingers.
Numerous taboos derive from the beliefs concerning Sedna,
who is angered by breach of them and may visit disaster upon the
offending individual or community. Since sea mammals are
derived from her, atonement must be made when one of them is
killed — for example, when a seal is brought into a house, all work
must cease until it has been cut up. The most interesting set of
taboos are derived from a subsidiary legend which accounts for
Sedna’s traditional hatred of the caribou. A woman, most
probably Sedna, created the walrus and the caribou during a
famine. She opened her belly, and took from it a small piece of
fat which she carried to the hills, where it was transformed into a
caribou. When she saw the animal she became afraid and ordered
it away, but it turned upon her and would not go. She became
angry and knocked out its teeth. It turned around and she gave
it a kick which lopped off its tail — this is why the caribou lacks
certain teeth and has scarcely any tail. She then took another
piece of her fat and threw it into the sea, where it became a
walrus. In another legend it is stated that when the walrus and
the caribou first appeared, the former had large horns but no
tusks and the latter tusks but no horns. This was dangerous to
hunters, as the caribou killed its pursuers with its tusks, while the
horns of the walrus used to capsize boats. Therefore an old man
effected a transfer, as a result of which the caribou today has
horns and the walrus has tusks.
The social significance of these legends is that they draw a
sharp distinction between the activities of winter on the one hand
and summer on the other, a distinction which is reflected in the
THE ESKIMO
5i
taboos prohibiting association between the two types oi activity.
These taboos are explicitly justified by reference to mythology.
T hus no work may be done on new caribou skins obtained during
the summer until the first ice has formed and the first seal has been
harpooned. Then follows a period of' intense activity in the pre-
paration of skins, for when the first walrus has been caught, the
work must cease again until the following autumn. Thus the
hunting of walrus cannot commence until work on caribou skins
has been completed. Again, owing to Sedna’s hatred of the
caribou, the flesh of this animal may not be eaten on the same day
as that of the sea mammals associated with her; in fact, the two
kinds of meat may not even lie together in the house at the same
time. Before changing from one food to the other the Eskimo
must wash themselves.
These beliefs and practices reflect vividly and dramatically the
Eskimo’s emotional attitude to the two phases of their seasonal
cycle. Summer is the period of comparative plenty and security,
while winter means the constant menace of famine. Thus many
magico-religious beliefs and observances are concerned with
placating Sedna, who controls the winter environment — there
appear to be no corresponding mythical beings or precautionary
observances connected with summer activities. Autumn, the
period of transition from security to danger, is one of intense
magico-religious activity, and great feasts connected with Sedna
are celebrated at this time. When the fierce storms begin to rage
over land and sea, the Eskimo believe that they can hear in them
the voices of malevolent beings threatening sickness, death, bad
weather and failure in hunting. The spirits of the dead bring
sickness and death to any unfortunate mortal whom they can
catch. Sedna herself rises from under the ground at this period.
It is worth noting that among the Polar Eskimo of northern
Greenland the psychopathic affliction known as “Arctic hysteria”
occurs most commonly in the late autumn. The victim becomes
temporarily oblivious of his or her surroundings, the body sways
to and fro, and moans, screams and disconnected sentences are
uttered. Men sometimes become violent during an attack and
have to be restrained by force. It may be suggested that this is an
individual manifestation of the current “anxiety state” which
finds social expression in the magico-religious beliefs and practices
which we are considering.
Next to Sedna, the most important spiritual beings among the
52 COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
Eskimo arc the tornait , which have a benevolent influence on the
affairs of men. It is from the tornait that magicians derive their
powers. Autumn is a busy period for the magicians, who are to
be found in every house invoking the benevolent spirits for aid
against the surrounding spiritual dangers. The hardest task, that
of driving away Sedna, is performed by the most powerful
magicians. They place a coil of rope upon the floor to represent
the breathing hole of a seal. One magician sings a song to attract
Sedna, and another stands by the hole and symbolically harpoons
her as soon as heavy breathing indicates her presence. She dives
downwards, and tears herself away from the harpoon which,
stained with her blood, is triumphantly shown by the magicians
to the audience. It is obvious that the magicians perform some
sleight of hand to stain the harpoon with blood. The expulsion
of Sedna and the other evil spirits is celebrated the next day by a
great festival, though there are still dangers against which the
Eskimo take precautions, such as the wearing of amulets. The
festival includes a tug-of-war between two groups, composed of
those born in winter on the one hand and those born in summer on
the other, called respectively the ptarmigans and the ducks. If
the ducks win, it represents the triumph of summer, and fine
weather may be expected throughout the winter.
9. The Iroquois
One of the most interesting peoples of the eastern maize area
were the Iroquois. This name was applied to a group of tribes
inhabiting the part of north-eastern America which is now New
York State, and extending in parts over its borders. The Iroquois
consisted of five tribes, the Cayuga, Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga
and Seneca banded together in a confederacy known as the
League, or “Five Nations”, of the Iroquois. 1
The most remarkable features of Iroquois culture are, firstly, its
unique development of a federal political authority, and secondly,
the unusually prominent part played by women in tribal life.
The social organizations of the Iroquois was marked by the
following social groupings:
(a) The individual family.
( b ) The matrilineal and matrilocal extended family, which
1 The original five tribes were joined at the beginning of the eighteenth century by
a southern tribe, the Tuscarora. These occupied a subordinate position in the League,
which was thereafter known as the Six Nations. It may be mentioned that languages
of the Iroquoian linguistic family were spoken by tribes outside the League.
THE IROQUOIS 53
might consist of from fifty to one hundred and fifty mem-
bers. Their affairs were regulated by the senior female
member, from whom all other members (except affinal kin)
were descended. This woman might perhaps be described
as the “headwoman”, since her functions seem to have
been analogous to those of headmen of minor groups in
other communities. One or more extended families dwelt
in a single building of unique structure, the famous “Long
House” (see Fig. 2) built of slabs of dried bark placed over a
wooden framework. This house was well adapted to the
Iroquois type of communal living, since if more space was
required, one of the end walls could be pulled down and
H
1
p
p
mm
mm
s
mm
1
mm
1
■
n
B
B
B
E.P.
I
1
1
1
1
3
s
$
L
E.P.
9
p
mm
mm
1
mm
p
p
I ks. 2. — Plan of the Long House of the Iroquois ( after Murdock)
(Not drawn to scale. Usual length, 50-150 feet; usual breadth, 20-30 feet)
P — Raised platforms for sleeping and sitting in cubicles of
individual families
F = Fires, each serving two individual families
S sss Storage cubicles
E.P.= Exterior porch
L -- Lobby for storing firewood
the house extended — in one recorded case a Long House
measured 300 feet in length. It should be noted that, in
spite of the communal living arrangements of the extended
family, the identity of the individual family was preserved.
( c ) The matrilineal clan, composed of the related members of a
number of extended families. Iroquois clans were totemic,
in the sense that they bore the names of animals and birds,
but there were no taboos or other ritual observances con-
nected with totemism, and no beliefs concerning descent
from the totem. The clans extended beyond the borders
of a single tribe, as did the rule of exogamy connected with
them — thus, a wolf man of one tribe was prohibited from
marrying any wolf woman from another.
(d) The matrilineal moieties, consisting of groups of matri-
lineal clans. These moieties existed in all the tribes except
the Mohawk and Oneida. The functions of the moieties
54
COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
were social and ceremonial rather than political. They
opposed each other in various games, but the principal
obligation of members of each moiety was to bury and to
mourn the dead of the other.
(*) The tribe, which was a political unit possessing a common
territory and ruled by a council of chiefs representing the
component clans of the tribe.
(f) The League. Although the Iroquois tribes possessed a
considerable amount of autonomy in matters of economics
and local administration, they were banded together in the
League for matters of common interest, particularly war.
The League consisted of a council of fifty chiefs drawn from
its component tribes as follows:
Mohawk
•
• 9
Oneida
•
• 9
Onandaga
•
• 14
Cayuga
•
. IO
Seneca
•
. 8
50
According to tradition, it was Hiawatha 1 who was largely
responsible for the union of the five tribes to form the League for
the purposes of arbitrating in cases of disputes between the tribes
and of prosecuting wars against neighbouring peoples. In this
latter sphere the League was certainly effective. The Iroquois
virtually exterminated the neighbouring Huron with the utmost
barbarity, and even conducted an expedition nearly a thousand
miles to the west to fight against the Pawnee of Nebraska. In their
war-making activities the Iroquois suffered considerable casual-
ties, which were to some extent offset by the practice of wholesale
adoption, not only of individuals, but also of whole clans and even
tribes. 8 Though prisoners of war were habitually tortured and
killed, the Iroquois frequently levied tribute in the form of men
from conquered and subordinate tribes. In fact, it has been
1 This name is a corruption of Haienhwatha, the title of one of the three chieftain*
ships of the Turtle clan of the Mohawk. The first recorded holder of the title was a
great statesman and reformer of the sixteenth century, who took a leading part in the
foundation of the League of the Iroquois. His pioneering constitutional work was
largely forgotten, and his name became associated with a number of garbled stories
of legendary and romantic deeds which form the basis of Longfellow’s famous poem.
* Where whole groups are thus involved, it is perhaps better to speak of “incorpora-
tion” rather than “adoption”, which is an individual mechanism serving different
functions in the kinship systems of communities which practise it.
THE IROQUOIS 55
estimated that at one time the number of adopted aliens among
them exceeded the number of native Iroquois.
The chieftainships within the council of the League were not
hereditary, but each of them belonged to a particular extended
family, from which the successor to a dead chief was chosen, the
nomination being made by the headwoman of the extended family
of the dead chief. When a chief died, this woman would call a
meeting of members of the extended family and propose a
successor. Her candidate was usually a brother or sister’s son of
the dead chief, so that in fact succession normally followed the
ordinary matrilineal principle. Members of other extended
families of the same clan were admitted to the meeting called to
nominate a new chief, but they had less influence than the
members of the extended family in which the chieftainship was
vested. The nomination of the headwoman was generally ac-
cepted, and the decision of the family council was then com-
municated by her, first to the chiefs of the “brother clans” (the
other clans of the same moiety), and afterwards to the chiefs of
the “cousin clans” (those belonging to the opposite moiety).
The nomination agreed upon in this way was finally submitted
to the chiefs of the League for approval. In the course of this
scries of councils the original nomination might in theory be
vetoed at any stage, but in actual practice it was usually accepted
throughout.
A chief thus elected was not free from further supervision. If he
proved unsatisfactory he was visited by the headwoman of his
extended family, who rebuked him and pointed out his defects.
He was expected not to reply to her comments. If, after one or two
such warnings, he persisted in his evil ways, she called upon him
again and ceremonially deposed him.
The important part played by women was reflected in every
phase of life. Economically the Iroquois depended mainly on
agriculture. Though a considerable amount of food was gained
by hunting, fishing and food-gathering, the cultivation of crops
provided the staple diet. This was ritually expressed in festivals in
honour of the “three sisters” of Iroquois mythology — Maize,
Bean and Squash. Apart from the heavy work of clearing the
ground of trees, the work of cultivation was almost exclusively
in the hands of the women. They worked in gardening teams
under the direction of one of their number, the teams cultivating
a series of fields in succession. As we have seen, the affairs of the
S.A. 1—6
56 COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
extended family were directed by the senior female member. The
men were strangers to a far greater extent than in other matri-
lineal societies. As far as political organization was concerned,
we have described the pre-eminent role played by women in the
election of the principal chiefs; and though actual decisions
in regard to warfare and other matters of tribal policy rested with
the chiefs’ council of the League, there is some evidence that
women possessed a power of veto in ceremonial matters. Though
women might not be members of the League council, they might
hold subordinate chieftainships which, though not hereditary,
carried with them a considerable amount of prestige. In certain
respects the legal code attached more importance to women than
to men. Thus atonement was made for murder among the Iro-
quois by the payment of compensation to the kinsmen of the
victim, and the penalty for killing a woman was double that for
killing a man. Again, in cases of adultery the woman alone was
punished by a public whipping; she was held to have been the
only offender, an exception to the more common conception of'
“seduction” found in the vast majority of communities.
In ceremonial and religious matters, women occupied a position
equal, if not superior, to that of men. Each clan elected six officials
whose duty it was to organize and supervise ceremonial procedure.
Of these six officials, three were women. Again, the Iroquois had
a number of secret societies or “medicine lodges”, such as the
False Face society, who appeased the malevolent Flying Heads
which haunted the forests; the Society of the Three Sisters, which
carried out the fertility cult of the maize, bean and squash; and
several other societies, which were concerned with the promotion
of health and the curing of sickness. Membership of these societies
was open alike to individuals of both sexes, and in the majority of
cases the chief officer was a w oman.
10. The Haida Potlatch
The practices connected with the potlatch among the Haida of
the Queen Charlotte Islands illustrates very well the way in which
this institution conferred prestige on the giver of the potlatch and
his kin. The Haida practised several varieties of potlatch, among
which may be mentioned the Funeral potlatch, the House-
building potlatch, the Face-saving potlatch and the Vengeance
potlatch. The Funeral potlatch was carried out by the heir to a
chieftainship and was a necessary preliminary to the assumption
THE HAIDA POTLATCH 57
of the title. The heir invited members of the opposite moiety to
assemble in order to erect a mortuary column in honour of his
predecessor, and at the conclusion of the work distributed valu-
able property among them.
The House-building potlatch was an elaborate undertaking.
A man and his wife might labour for ten years preparing the
necessary food and valuables. Neighbours were then invited to
come and work throughout the whole winter obtaining timber,
building the house and carving the totem pole. During this
period there was much feasting and dancing, the feasts being
provisioned by the people whose house was being built. At the
conclusion of the building, a potlatch was given, nominally by
the wife. Those who had assisted in the house-building assembled
and seated themselves according to their rank. The wife distri-
buted furs, blankets, carved dishes and other property among
them, finally giving to her husband an old and tattered blanket,
symbolizing the exhaustion of the family property. These pot-
latch goods were distributed according to rank and services per-
formed, and the total value of the property involved amounted in
historic times to thousands of pounds.
Social status was acquired by the giving of potlatches. It is
important to distinguish between social status which was achieved
by the giving of potlatches and political rank which was hereditary
in the female line, subject to the above-mentioned provision that
the heir to a chieftainship must give a Funeral potlatch. Status
was acquired by potlatching, which, however, affected the social
status, not of the man giving the potlatch, but of his children. It
was said of a man who had never given a potlatch that “he never
did anything for his children”.
The differentiation of rank and status meant that a commoner
might have a higher status than a chief, this status being marked
by the right to wear certain ornaments and to occupy special
seats of honour. Individuals whose parents had given a potlatch
but who never did so themselves did not thereby lose social status.
Their position was not unlike that of the “black sheep” of British
aristocratic families.
The Face-saving potlatch was given by a man when he found
himself in an embarrassing social position, for example, if he had
made an unfortunate slip of the tongue during a speech or suffered
some other humiliation. Such a man issued an invitation to all
members of the opposite moiety who had witnessed the mishap,
58 COOKS’ TOUR: AFRICA AND AMERICA
and in their presence tore up a number of blankets, the pieces of
which he distributed among them. After this ceremony the inci-
dent which had led to it was regarded as closed and might not
thereafter be mentioned.
The Vengeance potlatch was carried out in order to humiliate
a man from whom an individual had suffered an insult. The
offended man assembled members of the opposite moiety and
also the man who had wronged him, and in their presence de-
stroyed valuable property. For example, he might kill a slave, hack
to pieces a treasured canoe or copper, or tear up a number of
blankets. His antagonist was obliged immediately to destroy an
equal amount of property or to suffer lifelong disgrace.
u. Bibliographical Commentary
Since this and the following chapter are concerned with a
general survey of primitive cultures, the reader should if possible
refer also to two outstanding works, namely, Murdock (i) and
Forde (i), in which concise descriptions of a variety of primitive
cultures from many different parts of the world are to be found.
So far as Africa is concerned, a most valuable reference work is
Hambly (i), which is well indexed and contains an excellent
bibliography which enables the reader to follow up special lines
of enquiry connected with African ethnology. On the classifica-
tion and distribution of African cultures in terms of culture areas,
reference may be made to Herskovits (i). Valuable regional
surveys are contained in Scligman (i) and Schapera (i). On
special problems of African cultures, reference should be made to
the journal Africa , a few articles from which are cited in the
bibliography.
Detailed ethnographic monographs on African peoples are far
too numerous to cite individually, but those of Evans-Pritchard,
Fortes, Kuper {nee Beemer), Mair, Nadel, Peristiany, Richards,
Schapera, G. Wilson and M. Wilson ( nee Hunter) may be specially
mentioned. Several of these works are primarily concerned with
the problems of culture contact, but provide incidentally an
account of the functioning of various aspects of indigenous cul-
ture. The same is true of Brown and Hutt (i) which provides an
admirably condensed account of a Bantu culture.
A most valuable survey of Amerindian cultures is contained in
Wisslcr (a), which contains a very full bibliography. Hodge (1),
though published many years ago, is a valuable work of reference.
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL COMMENTARY 59
Steward (1) and (2) provide useful digests and references bearing
on certain South American Indian peoples, and is to be followed
by further volumes in the same series. Regional surveys are pro-
vided in Kroeber (1) and Swanton (1), while a more popular
appreciation of certain Amerindian cultures is contained in
Wissler (3).
As regards individual Amerindian cultures, brief summaries of
some of them are contained in the works of Forde and of Murdock
previously cited, and also in Goldenweiscr (1). These works con-
tain references to original field records on the cultures concerned.
CHAPTER III
A COOKS’ TOUR OF PRIMITIVE PEOPLES—
ASIA AND OCEANIA
/. Primitive Cultures of Asia
Although Asia contains a far greater proportion of the world’s
population than any other continent, the number of really good
anthropological works on Asiatic peoples is far less than that
available elsewhere. Ethnographically, it is Asia which is “the
Dark Continent”.
We are apt to think of Asia in terms of the historic and contem-
porary civilizations and empires of Japan, China, India and the
Middle East. These involve, or have involved, highly developed
political institutions, codified laws, philosophically elaborated
religions such as Mohammedanism, Buddhism and Taoism,
urban civilization, a partially industrialized technology and a
complex economic organization. But it must be remembered that
the vast majority of people found in the areas covered by the
civilizations mentioned live in small and largely isolated com-
munities and are wholly or partially illiterate, while there exist
enclaves of primitive cultures which have been but little in-
fluenced by the major Asiatic civilizations.
2, Reindeer Peoples of Northern Asia
Reindeer are domesticated throughout northern Asia from
Lapland to Kamchatka. Their use, and the degree of importance
attached to them, vary from one area to another and even among
single peoples. Thus, among the northern Tungus, who are
primarily reindeer-herders, the herds belonging to individual
households vary from a few dozen to several hundreds. In the
case of households with small herds, the men devote most of their
time to hunting, and the care of the reindeer largely devolves
upon the women. In the hunting of wild reindeer, does from the
domesticated herds are used as decoys, especially during the
rutting season, and several ingenious methods of hunting are
employed. The Tungus also catch squirrels and other fur-bearing
60
REINDEER PEOPLES OF NORTHERN ASIA 61
animals, the skins of which they barter with Russian traders for
guns, knives, utensils and minor luxuries, such as tea and tobacco.
The Tungus do not smelt iron from ore, but their smiths manu-
facture tools and weapons from scrap-iron obtained by barter.
The Tungus rely on the milk provided by their reindeer, and
kill them for meat only on ceremonial occasions. Reindeer are
used as pack animals, to drag sledges and for riding. Their antlers
are often sawn off to prevent them from sweeping a load or a rider
from their backs.
The care of reindeer herds is beset with dangers and difficulties.
During summer the herds readily stampede under the attacks of
mosquitoes, and to prevent this they are moved to higher altitudes
during this season. Smoky fires are lit to keep off midges. Does are
apt to leave the herds during the mating season. Salt, of which the
reindeer are very fond, is provided for them by the Tungus, and
helps to keep the herds attached to the human community which
owns them. The attacks of wolves are a menace during winter,
and from time to time epidemics decimate the herds.
Life among the Tungus follows a well-marked seasonal cycle
largely determined by their environment. In winter the poverty
of the pasture and the attention devoted to hunting and trapping
entail constant movement and long journeys, and during this
period the Tungus communities divide into small units composed
of one or more family groups. But in summer they tend to settle
down in large villages of perhaps a thousand individuals.
The Tungus are divided into patrilineal clans. Two or more
of these clans form a tribe, which occupies a specified area of
territory and usually speaks a dialect of its own. But the clans
alone have names and the tribe is apt to be an unstable unit. The
size of the clan varies from a dozen to several hundred households,
each household numbering from four to ten people. There are no
hereditary clan headmen. War leaders are appointed when
necessary, and at the time of' summer aggregation the heads of
households meet in council to settle disputes and punish offenders.
Though herds of reindeer are owned by individual households,
the decimation of certain herds by epidemics or the attacks of
wolves is followed by a redistribution of stock — ownership is thus
not absolute.
The milk of reindeer and the products of the chase are shared
by members of the camp group. Nevertheless, individual or
family ownership, though limited by traditional usage and
62 COOKS* TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
mutual agreement, definitely exists. The land rights of tribes are
defended if necessary by force, and individual families have
customary pastures and hunting grounds scattered over the tribal
territory irrespective of clan affiliation. Families likewise build
storehouses in which to keep food, clothing and other property.
Any Tungus, if in need, may use the contents of these, but a tally
must be kept of anything taken permanently, and some recom-
pense at a later date is expected.
Among the Tungus, reindeer arc of ceremonial and religious,
as well as economic, importance. They are sacrificed at cere-
monies connected with marriage and death. Moreover, every clan
sets aside a sacred reindeer, which is never milked, saddled or
driven. These beasts are believed to carry the souls of men to the
land of the dead and to act as intermediaries between human
beings and the spirits.
Marriage among the Tungus is almost always monogamous,
and polygyny is only approved if the first wife fails to bear
children. Frequently, two clans are traditionally associated as
intermarrying groups. Cross-cousin marriage (especially matri-
lateral) is approved, and exchange of sisters is common. Marriages
are often arranged while the two individuals concerned are still
children. Bride-price, called turi, is paid in reindeer by the family
of the bridegroom to the parents of the bride, the fellow clansmen
of the former often making contributions to it. The size of the turi
varies w r ith the beauty, skill and social status of the bride, and a
large turi enhances the prestige of both of the clans concerned. An
equivalent of about half the turi is returned in the form of a dowry,
which also includes the equipment necessary to set up a new f
household. The exchanges involved are marked by reciprocal
feasting. If a family is too poor to provide the necessary beasts, the
bridegroom goes for a while to live with his affinal kin, and during
this period he hunts for them. No turi is paid in the case of sister-
exchange.
The dependence of the other peoples of northern Asia upon
reindeer is less marked than among the Tungus. The Samoyeds
to the north-west, between the Ycncsei River and the Ural
Mountains, use them for pulling sledges and occasionally make
use of their meat and skins. The reindeer of the Samoyeds are
neither milked nor ridden, the people depending for food on
herds of domesticated deer and on hunting.
The Yakuts, whose territory lies to the north of the Tungus,
REINDEER PEOPLES OF NORTHERN ASIA 63
attempt to raise horses and cattle by gathering scant supplies of
hay, constructing winter byres, and even inducing the animals to
eat fish and meat. But they are being driven to an increasing
dependence upon reindeer as their horses and cattle die out. It
appears that they moved to their present habitat from the south-
west and, in spite of the unfavourable environment, cling tena-
ciously to their traditional herds, partly on account of the
ceremonial and social values attached to them.
At the north-eastern extremity of Asia the Chuckchi to the
north and the Koryak to the south keep reindeer, but also
subsist largely by means of fishing and seal-hunting, which
resemble the activities of the Eskimo communities inhabiting the
extreme north-eastern coast.
An unusual people of this region are the Yukaghir, whose terri-
tory lies north of the Verkhoyansk and Stanovoi Mountains. The
Yukaghir rely largely on reindeer, which they hunt but do not
domesticate. They are (apart from the Eskimo of the extreme
north-east coast) the only purely hunting and food-gathering
peoples of Arctic Asia. Their indigenous ecology is fast dis-
appearing, and most of them have joined neighbouring com-
munities of reindeer herders.
3. Pastoralists of Central Asia
In west central Asia lies an extensive belt of territory bounded
on the west by the Caspian Sea, on the east by the Altai Moun-
tains, and on the south and north roughly by latitudes 40° and 50°
North. Though this area is comparatively dry, particularly in
summer, there is a good supply of grass. The people of this region
depend upon the milk, and to some extent the meat, of their
herds of sheep, horses and cattle. Goats, and in certain areas
camels, are also kept.
The largest cultural group inhabiting this area are the Kazaks,
who occupy most of the western section of it. To the south lies the
territory of the Kirghiz and to the east that of the Kalmuck.
The Kazak are divided into patrilineal clans. Groups of twenty
or more clans are bound together in loosely knit tribes, and the
tribes again have in the past banded together in much larger
units known as hordes. 1
1 The term “horde” as applied to these large political units, organized for wars of
aggression and defence, is used in an entirely different sense from the special connota-
tion given to it in connection with the small local groups of Australian aboriginal
society (see section 9 below).
64 COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
The Kazak hordes and tribes are only important in connection
with war. These people have never succeeded in achieving any
large-scale political unity. Their basic political and economic
units are their clans. Each clan has a headman, who is the senior
member of the dominant family of the clan. Each clan has a
crest, which is branded on its livestock. The family owners of the
herds have traditional pastures, but the poorer members of the
community when destitute are fed by more fortunate families.
The conditions of pasture and particularly the severe winter are a
constant menace to the herds, and families may be reduced by
bad luck to complete dependence upon others. Slavery existed
among the Kazaks until 1859. The Kazaks are divided into two
social classes — the “white bones” and the “black bones”. The
former, who claim, quite unjustifiably, descent from Jenghiz
Khan, form the aristocracy of the Kazaks and refuse to inter-
marry with the lower class.
The Kazaks follow a well-marked seasonal cycle. During
summer the pastures are poor and will not support herds for any
length of time. At this season families and clans do not lay per-
manent claim to particular areas, because the richness of any given
pasture varies from year to year. The right to use a particular
pasture belongs to the first family or clan to occupy it. Families
often preserve secrecy as to the pastures they intend to occupy in
order to forestall their neighbours.
Life in winter is also precarious, but whereas the Kazaks break
up into small nomadic social groups during the summer, the
conditions of winter conduce to a concentration of settlement in
areas sheltered from the cold. Such areas are permanent terri-
torial possessions of the clans.
In addition to herding, the Kazaks practise a small amount of
agriculture, which was in the past largely carried out by slaves
and is still almost completely limited to Kazak families who have
lost all or most of their livestock. Hunting is of little importance,
but falconry is practised as a sport by the richer families. The
Kazaks are nominally Moslems, believing that the practices of
circumcision, head-shaving and alms-giving pave the way to
Paradise, but they are not orthodox Mohammedans. They have
no priests or mosques and their women are neither secluded nor
veiled. They observe the Feast of Ramadan, at which Moslems
are enjoined to abstain from food and drink between sunrise and
sunset. The Kazaks meet this obligation by feasting all night and
INDIA, ASSAM AND BURMA 65
sleeping during the day* Moreover, Mohammedanism is supple-
mented by numerous pagan beliefs and practices.
4. Some Primitive Tribes of India , Assam and Burma
Although most of the population of India consists of Hindus,
Moslems and representatives of other advanced cultures, there
exist numerous more or less isolated areas inhabited by people
possessing very much simpler cultures, though these people have
adopted cultural elements from their more advanced neighbours.
These relatively isolated communities are sometimes referred to
as the “aboriginal” tribes of India, but the term “primitive” is
preferable. Thus the Lepchas, an agricultural people of Sikkim,
are actually of Mongolian race, quite unlike the so-called Dravid-
ians or Proto-Australoids of southern India, though they resemble
them in that they form a distinctive cultural enclave isolated
from the dominant cultures of India.
Another primitive agricultural people are the Baiga, who
inhabit territory in the Central Provinces of India, east and
north-west of the Maikal Mountains. They are an agricultural
people, cultivating rice and other grain by shifting cultivation on
the hills. In spite of rigorous attempts by the Government to
induce them to adopt settled plough agriculture in the valleys,
they cling tenaciously to their traditional agricultural methods
which arc socially and mythologically sanctioned. The use of the
plough is literally regarded as a sin which may bring misfortune
and death to the offender and his fellow- villagers. El win (1) deals
at length with shifting cultivation and the effects of its prohibition
on Baiga life. He includes a comparative section which is of special
interest at the present time, when the requirements of soil and forest
conservation conflict with native custom in many parts of the
world. It may be noted that shifting cultivation has raised similar
problems among other primitive Indian tribes, for example, the
Reddis of eastern Hyderabad.
Another primitive people of India arc the Chenchus of southern
Hyderabad. This tribe is divided into three groups. The most im-
portant of these, the “jungle Chenchus”, inhabit the hills to the
north of the Kistna River. They subsist mainly on the gathering
of wild forest produce, supplemented by hunting, fishing and the
collection of wild honey and Mohua flowers. The latter are used,
not only as food, but also for the preparation of liquor. These
Chenchus keep a few cattle and sometimes cultivate a little grain,
66 COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
but they are primarily food-gatherers. During a large part of the
year they are nomadic, wandering from place to place in search
of forest produce.
A group of Chenchus to the north have settled in permanent
villages and adopted the agricultural type of life of their Hindu
neighbours.
A southern group of the tribe who live on the southern side of
the Kistna River in Madras Presidency were originally, like their
northern neighbours, semi-nomadic food gatherers. But the
Government has taken steps to settle them in permanent villages
and to introduce them to agricultural pursuits. It may be noted
that, though this policy has certain advantages, it has resulted in
an alarming increase in serious crimes among these Chenchus.
This is partly due to the breakdown of traditional standards, but
even more to the new conditions of life to which the Chenchus are
not adapted. Under the nomadic system of the jungle Chenchus,
quarrels or strained relations between individuals merely lead
one or other party to move off to another area, so that serious
consequences rarely ensue. When they are forced to live together
in close proximity under conditions of village life, bloodshed is
sooner or later the almost inevitable result. This is a good illustra-
tion of the dangers of introducing primitive peoples to practices
to which their culture is not adapted, even when this is done from
entirely disinterested and laudable motives.
An Indian people with an entirely different type of culture arc
the Todas of the Nilgiri Hills in southern India. The productive
labour of these people is almost exclusively devoted to their herds
of buffalo, though they exchange their dairy produce with other
tribes in return for grain and other goods. Apart from their
interesting system of polyandry, the Todas are chiefly remarkable
for the elaborate ritual connected with their herds, which are of
two kinds. The ordinary herds are tended by men and boys
without any special ritual, but the sacred herds are the object of
elaborate ceremonial, carried out by a special official dairyman at
a sacred dairy.
In the Naga Hills of Assam live a group of primarily agricul-
tural tribes. Most of these cultivate rice by shifting cultivation,
but the Angami Nagas have also developed an elaborate system
of irrigated terraces, these being flooded when required by water
from neighbouring streams and torrents. An interesting feature of
this system is the existence of rights of ownership, purchase and
INDIA, ASSAM AND BURMA 67
inheritance over water. Thus when a man has once dug a channel
tapping a new stream, no one is allowed to tap the same stream
at a higher level. This rule does not, however, apply to very large
streams.
An interesting feature of the cultures of the Naga tribes is the
importance attached to feasts, particularly the Feasts of Merit,
whereby an individual attains social prestige in a manner re-
miniscent of the potlatch. Social status is achieved by giving a
series of feasts, each more costly than the preceding one, and large
monoliths are erected in Naga villages to commemorate feasts
given by prominent villagers. Similar feasts among the Chins of
Burma will be mentioned presently.
Certain Naga tribes are unusual among primitive peoples, in
that they believe that an individual’s condition in the life after
death is determined by his moral conduct during life. The
Angami believe that good men go up to the sky, where they lead
a pleasant life, while those who have committed breaches of taboo
or other offences go to a region below the earth, where their souls
pass through seven existences, at the end of which they become
extinct. The ideas of the natives on the life after death are vague,
and they appear to have little interest in the subject.
Of the many primitive tribes of Burma, such as the Nagas,
Lushei-Kukis, Chins, Karens and Shans, few have received
detailed anthropological attention. The central Chins occupy a
mountainous tract in the Manipur area. Before the advent of
British administration, wars and migrations were frequent. The
British created new administrative units, which coincided neither
with old tribal boundaries nor with traditional political units.
Though there are today chiefs of tribes and sub-tribes, the most
influential political figure is the hereditary village headman.
Villages are situated in easily defended positions on the mountain-
sides, and consist of anything from ten to three hundred houses,
grouped round a mual , a place of sacrifice. Houses are well built
of planks and thatch, consist of two rooms, and usually have a
platform in front extending over a garden. A central aqueduct,
sometimes five miles long, of split logs on Y-shaped poles, brings
water to the village, and smaller runlets of log or bamboo carry
it to each house.
The economy of the Chins centres round agriculture. The
mountains of the region rise to 8,000 feet and the cultivable land
of a village sometimes extends through 6,000 feet. The land is
68 COOKS* TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
classified as “hot and cold” and crops are planted to suit each
category. The staple crops are rice, three types of millet, sulphur
beans and peas. Other crops are runner beans, broad beans and
potatoes, while garden produce includes melon, tobacco, cucum-
ber, ginger, chillies, onions and leeks. Each village has a definite
territory, the cultivable area of which is divided into fields, about
four to each village, which are cultivated or used for grazing in
strict rotation. Each field is further subdivided into plots distri-
buted amongst the households of the village. The main crops are
also grown in rotation. Formerly agriculture was left to the women
while the men mounted guard or raided other territories, but now
men work in the fields as much as women. Each household is
responsible for the cultivation of its own plot, but labour can be
hired, and kinsmen form labour associations to do the heavy work
on each other’s plots.
Stock-breeding of a variety of cattle known as mithan, and also
of pigs, is an important element in Chin economy. A man’s
wealth is judged by the number of mithan he owns, and meat is
the main element in the Feasts of Merit, the giving of which is the
road to worldly wealth and glory in the after-life. Jungle and
scrub jungle provide game, fruit, honey and other products,
altogether forming a substantial contribution to Chin economy.
Hunting is both an economic activity and a sport. The most
popular form of hunting is the drive, for it allows a large number
of men to share the thrills and spoils of the chase. Though each
village has its defined territory, a village may hunt in the territory
of another village, and hunting parties often travel as much as
sixty miles from home. An ingenious trap the Chins have devised
consists of a see-saw baited at one end and poised over a steep
declivity. Underneath the baited end sharp bamboo stakes are
planted in the ground, which transfix the victim as it slips off the
see-saw. Even tigers are caught in this way. Chin women are
expert hand weavers, potters and basketry makers. There are
only two specialists in the Chin village, the priest and the black-
smith. In some villages they are paid by contract, in others they
perform all the services required of them in the village and in
return have their land cultivated for them by the villagers.
The headman of the village has executive powers to deal with
all offences except murder. Assisting him in the guidance of
village activities and the maintenance of law and order is a
council of village notables. Entry into the council is open to all the
INDIA, ASSAM AND BURMA 69
males who have given certain of the Feasts of Merit. Labour
service and rates in kind are paid to the council by all households
(including those of the council members), to meet administrative
expenses.
Chin religion is closely bound up with agriculture. For example,
before a field is open to cultivation (every three, six or nine years
according to the land available) a sacrifice to ensure the goodwill
of its guardian spirit must be performed by the village priest,
otherwise evil would befall any man who used the field. Thus
religious beliefs ensure that the system of field rotation will be
strictly adhered to, while the priest is a major figure in organizing
the system. To the Chin, heaven and earth are stratified, and the
soul of a man at death goes to the stratum which corresponds
with what his status has been on earth. A man advances in
status by giving Feasts of Merit of increasing lavishness. Religious
beliefs here stimulate economic production and distribution.
Succession, inheritance and descent are patrilineal and
marriage is patrilocal. Marriage with close patrilineal relations is
forbidden. Polygyny exists, but is disapproved and is rare. A
bride-price and a dowry of almost equal value are exchanged
between the kin of the bride and the kin of the groom at marriage.
The value of the bride-price varies according to the status of the
girl and her physical condition. Her status depends upon that of
her father, and hence upon the number of Feasts of Merit he has
given. Her physical condition refers, not to her beauty, but to
whether or not she has already borne children. Virginity is not
valued, but the Chin youth prefers to many a woman who has
not yet given birth. On account of reciprocal obligations between
a husband and his patrilineal kinsmen and between him and his
relatives-in-law, most men live within their fathers" villages. The
village is thus usually composed of groups of patrilineal kinsmen
(and their wives) each related by marriage to other groups in the
village*
5. Malaysia
This area includes the Malay Peninsula, Sumatra and the
islands and island groups extending eastwards to the western end
of New Guinea and northwards to the Philippine Islands. The
primitive cultures of Malaysia are extremely heterogeneous, and
have for many centuries been affected by religious, political and
economic influences from the cultures of India and China, and in
70 COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
recent centuries by European colonization. Thus we find cultures
ranging from nomadic bands of hunters and food-gatherers to
highly developed native states ruled by rajahs and sultans.
The simplest cultures of this area are found in the interior of
the south-eastern extremity of the Malay Peninsula. This region
is inhabited by communities of hunters and food-gatherers, the
Sakai to the south, and the Semang to the north.
The Semang live in small nomadic groups numbering up to
twenty or thirty individuals. Each group has its own traditional
territory, but rights to the products of such territory vary accord-
ing to the value of the food concerned. Thus a man may wander
over the territory of a neighbouring group in search of roots or
game, but must not take the fruits of valuable trees. The Semang
have no crops or domestic animals except half-wild dogs and a
few tame monkeys. They subsist primarily by food-gathering,
supplemented by the hunting of small game and by fishing. Their
principal hunting weapons are the bow and arrow, and the blow-
gun and poisoned darts.
Semang habitations consist of rude shelters of palm leaves,
and these are usually only temporary structures. The material
culture of the Semang is extremely simple, and they make no
weapons or tools of metal or even of stone.
The leadership of a band of Semang is usually vested in a man
respected for his age, personal qualities or supernatural powers.
Certain groups of bands have a feeling of community and share a
common dialect, but these larger groups have no political unity.
A man normally marries a woman belonging to a band other
than his own. Marriage is by individual choice, and when the
two parties have reached an understanding, the man gives pre-
sents to his prospective wife’s father. After marriage he goes to
live with and work for his wife’s people for a period of a year or
two, and then returns with his wife to his own band.
The Semang carry out some trade with the neighbouring
Malays, exchanging wax, resin and other forest produce for salt,
beads, cloth and metal articles. This trade is carried out by what
is called “dumb barter”. The Semang leave their forest produce
in a specified place and retire. The Malays come and collect it,
leaving in its stead the articles which they have to provide in
exchange, and these are subsequently collected by the shy and
suspicious Semang. In these transactions the Semang arc usually
cheated by their more sophisticated neighbours.
MALAYSIA 71
Semang bands live at peace with one another. They do not
carry on any armed conflict even with the Sakai and Malays, by
whom they are sometimes harassed. The Semangs 5 reaction to
attack is to retire from the conflict.
The inhabitants of the Andaman Islands of the Bay of Bengal
are also hunters and food-gatherers, but possess in many respects
a more advanced type of culture than the Semang. The settle-
ments of the Andamanese are more permanent, and there is a
certain amount of economic specialization and trade, which
takes the form of gift exchange, between inland and coastal
peoples.
Most of the primitive peoples of Malaysia, however, are agri-
culturists, rice being the most common crop. But this is usually
supplemented by other items of diet, as among the Igorot peoples
of north-western Luzon, who also cultivate sweet potatoes and
indulge in fishing and hunting. Rice is also the staple food among
the primitive non-Mohammedan peoples of Borneo, often
loosely referred to as Dyaks. Among these may be mentioned the
Kayan, who live along the banks of large rivers and who are
remarkable for their local organization. They live in “long
houses” reminiscent of those of the Iroquois. One or two of these
houses make up an independent village unit. The headmen of
such villages are the only political authorities.
6 . Primitive Cultures of the Pacific
The aboriginal cultures of the Pacific islands are traditionally
divided into three groups — those of Melanesia, Micronesia and
Polynesia.
Melanesia includes New Guinea and the arc of islands to the
north-east of Australia extending southwards as far as New
Caledonia and eastwards to Fiji.
Micronesia covers the small islands lying to the north of Melan-
esia. Very little ethnographic information is available for this
area.
The Polynesian islands are those of the Pacific roughly east of
longitude 180° and also including New Zealand. Polynesia is
bounded on the north by Hawaii and on the east by Easter
Island. Lines joining these three points cover approximately the
so-called “Polynesian triangle”. But it should be noted that there
are certain western Polynesian “outliers” in the area covered by
Melanesia, notably the islands of Tikopia and Ontong Java.
8.A. i — 7
72
COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
Map III. — Location of certain Oceanic Cultures
PRIMITIVE CULTURES OF THE PACIFIC 73
The native ecologies of the Pacific are based on cultivation, but
no grain crops are indigenous to the Pacific. The natives rely
mainly on root vegetables such as taro and yams, and on sago,
breadfruit, bananas and, in particular, the coco-nut. The last of
these provides, not only food and drink, but also fibre for making
string and rope, and also material for bowls, cups and spoons.
Nowadays the dried “meat'’ of the coco-nut (copra) is one of the
most important commercial exports of the Pacific. Fishing is an
important activity on the smaller islands and in coastal regions of
the larger ones, where fish are frequently exchanged with inland
people for vegetable produce. Pigs are kept, and are of particular
social and ceremonial importance in Melanesia.
7 . Polynesia
In spite of widespread similarities of culture and language, a
great variety of cultures is to be found in Polynesia. Students
should therefore beware of regarding the cultures of Tikopia or of
Ontong Java as equivalent to “Polynesian Culture”. Much atten-
tion is paid to the two islands mentioned because of the quality of
the ethnographic records from them, in contradistinction to the
larger island groups where detribalization preceded the develop-
ment of modern methods of field-work. In these large groups the
greater population, and later the introduction of firearms by
Europeans, made possible the growth of elaborate systems of
chieftainship, for example, the dynasty of Kamehameha I, the
“Napoleon of Hawaii”. Warfare in the large island groups of
Polynesia was highly developed.
Throughout Polynesia there were many variations in religion
and special developments in material culture. The latter were
particularly marked in New Zealand, where the migration of the
original Maori during the fourteenth century from the Society
Islands to a land with a very much colder climate and with
different natural resources produced considerable changes in
technology, particularly in the making of clothing.
8 . Melanesia
Melanesia also presents a wide variety of cultures, and the
danger of generalizing from one or two communities must again
be emphasized. Thus, much attention will be paid to the Tro-
briand Islands because of Malinowski’s pioneering field research
74 COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
in this area (1914-18). But the matrilineal system of the Tro-
brianders is by no means universal in Melanesia, where both
patrilineal and matrilineal systems occur. Sometimes both forms
of organization co-exist, as in Wogeo, though the people of this
island are predominantly patrilineal.
Again the Trobriand Kula (Chapter VII, section 6), though it
reflects the emphasis upon wealth which is common in Melanesia
generally (in contradistinction to the importance attached to
hereditary rank in Polynesia), is a highly specialized institution.
Finally, the Trobriand system of chieftainship is not typical of
Melanesia, where the political unit tends to be a small clan,
village or group of homesteads. In this respect Malaita and Wogeo
are more representative of Melanesian political organization than
the Trobriands.
In Malaita the basic social unit is the district, composed of a
number of isolated homesteads. Men of importance ( ngwane-inoto )
acquire authority over one or more districts by lavish distribution
of wealth, but none of them ever has more than about two hundred
followers. The office is not hereditary, though the son of a ngwane-
inoto has an initial economic advantage over his rivals. The island
of Wogeo, again, is divided into five districts, but there are no
chiefs ruling over these. Each district contains a number of
villages. The population is divided into patrilineal clans, and
usually two clans occupy each village. Each clan has a headman
and deputy-headman. Cutting across the predominantly patri-
lineal system there are two matrilineal moieties. These are mainly
ceremonial in their function, and friendship is enjoined between
fellow-members of the same moiety. Culturally, the patrilineal
clans are of far greater importance.
A characteristic feature of Melanesian cultures is the develop-
ment of magical beliefs and practices and particularly of sorcery.
Though frowned upon by the administration, such beliefs play, as
in other parts of the world, an important part in maintaining
native standards of law and morality.
9. The Australian Aborigines
The Australian aborigines are a hunting and food-gathering
people. They have no cultivated crops or domestic animals except
the dingo (the native Australian dog) which they train to hunt
for them. They are divided into hordes of perhaps fifty to one
hundred and fifty individuals. The horde normally consists of the
THE AUSTRALIAN ABORIGINES 75
men and immature females of a patrilineal clan and the wives of
its male members. This group occupies a specified area, and its
members do not normally trespass on the territory of other hordes.
The horde is the basic political unit of native society, the tribe
being a linguistic and not a political entity. Great respect is paid
to age, and the affairs of the horde are regulated by an informal
council of old men, a system which has been termed gerontocracy .
The old men arc important because of their detailed knowledge
of local geography and bush lore, and this is reflected in their
direction of ceremonies, particularly the elaborate ritual con-
nected with initiation.
Australian culture is remarkable for the elaborateness and
complexity of its kinship systems, which regulate all phases of
social life, particularly marriage. The prescribed marriages with
kin, real or classificatory, fall into the following groups:
1. Marriage with either cross-cousin, as found among the
Kariera and other tribes in the vicinity of the De Grey
River, Western Australia.
2. Marriage with mother’s brother’s daughter but not father’s
sister’s daughter, as among the Murngin of north-east
Arnhem land.
3. Marriage between cross-cousins prohibited, the preferred
marriage being with mother’s mother’s brother’s daughter’s
daughter, as among the Aranda.
4. Various atypical and intermediate forms of marriage.
Various forms of totemism exist. A common feature of Aus-
tralian totemism is a series of rites, known as increase cere-
monies. The object of these is to increase the supply of animals,
plants and other natural species upon which the aborigines de-
pend for their existence.
In spite of the general homogeneity of culture in Australia,
various Australian tribes present important cultural variations.
The danger of generalizing from a single instance must again be
stressed. Thus one of the best-known tribes are the Aranda or
Arunta of Central Australia, and their somewhat specialized
culture, particularly in regard to social organization and magico-
religious beliefs, has frequently been treated as synonymous with
Australian aboriginal culture. It has moreover frequently formed
the basis of theoretical interpretations which are not applicable
to other Australian tribes.
76
COOKS* TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
w. The Karadjeri Tribe
As an example of Australian aboriginal culture, we may con-
sider that of the Karadjeri, bearing in mind what was said in the
preceding section about the danger of generalizing from a
particular tribe. Thus the food supply of the Karadjeri is much
more abundant than that of the natives of the interior, their
initiation ceremonies are more elaborate than in some other
Australian tribes, and their kinship system is less systematic and
stable than corresponding organizations elsewhere in Australia.
Nevertheless, the Karadjeri are a reasonably representative
Australian tribe. 1
Environment and Food Supply
The Karadjeri tribe occupies a strip of coastal territory
situated around Lagrange Bay, in north-western Australia, and
extending several miles inland. In culture the coastal Karadjeri
differ slightly from the inland Karadjeri, especially in regard to
kinship usages. The coastal territory consists of belts of bush
country, known as “pindan”, alternating with tidal marshes; the
latter are covered by the sea at the time of the equinoctial tides.
There are no streams of fresh water, but the marshes are at inter-
vals invaded by salt-w r ater creeks in which fish are plentiful. In
these the w'hite “mangrove mud”, extensively used for decoration,
is obtained.
Near the coast native wells are plentiful and food abundant,
but as one proceeds inland, water becomes more scarce and food
correspondingly more difficult to obtain. The climate is not fully
tropical. The native year is divided into periods of varying length,
as follows:
1. Manggala is the wet season, lasting from about the beginning
of January till the end of the heavy rains, about the middle of
March.
2. Marul is a short season between the end of the rains and the
beginning of the cold w r eather, about May,
3. Pargana is the cold season, lasting till some time in August.
4. Wilburu is another short transitional season ; at this time the
weather becomes hotter.
1 The field-work on which this account is founded was carried out by the writer
under the auspices of the Australian National Research Council during 1930 and
1931. Many of the cultural features described were even then in a condition of dis-
integration and no doubt others have since disappeared. (Cf. p. 7.)
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 77
5. Ladja comprises the later months of the year, when the
weather becomes intensely hot; the end of this season, just
before Manggala , is termed ladjaladja .
The Karadjeri draw a distinction between flesh foods ( kwi ) and
vegetable foods ( mai ). As mentioned above, there is no lack of
food along the strip of coast occupied by the Nadja (coastal)
Karadjeri. Fish, turtle, crabs, oysters and other bivalves are avail-
able in unfailing supply, and occasionally a porpoise or dugong
is washed ashore and eaten by the natives. The Karadjeri have
no form of canoe. Crabs, cockles and oysters are collected by the
women, but the larger fish are caught by men. Turtle are speared
in rock pools at low tide. Fish are caught by several methods, the
most important of which are margu and panaing. In the former a
barricade of bushes is built across one of the ramifications of a
tidal salt-water creek at high tide, and as the tide recedes, the
fish and stingarees are caught.
The panaing (or “dry fishing”) method consists of wading out
over the reef and among rock pools at low tide; the fish are either
speared or killed by means of a flat piece of wood resembling in
shape a large squash racket.
Second to fish foods, the most common form of kwi consists of
wallaby flesh, these animals being extremely plentiful in the belts
of cadjibut trees which border the patches of pindan country.
The most usual means of obtaining wallabies is by the use of dogs,
while during the ladja season wallabies are sometimes tracked and
speared while asleep during the heat of the day. Occasionally a
drive is held in which an extended line of natives drives the walla-
bies out of a patch of country while others wait for the frightened
animals, which they kill with hitting sticks. Wallaby is preferred
to fish foods, the fat and blood of the animals being regarded as a
great delicacy. It appears that bandicoots once formed a regular
article of diet, but they are now extremely uncommon.
The two most important birds, from the point of view of food,
are the brolga or native companion, and the Australian bustard
or wild turkey. These birds are extremely difficult to approach,
and are caught by an ingenious method. A yard of bushes is built
round a small waterhole, a narrow entrance being left; a native
conceals himself near this and, when the bird comes to drink,
throws bushes across the opening, thus imprisoning the bird.
Smaller birds are killed by means of the boomerang.
Goannas (which are very plentiful) and snakes are a regular article
78 COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
of diet, while witchety grubs, locusts and other insects are
also eaten.
Turning to mai (vegetable food), we find a variety of bush fruit,
including the native plum, as well as nuts and wattle seed which
become plentiful during the wilburu and ladja seasons; but the most
common form of mai (among the coastal people) is the “nalgoo”, a
minute ground fruit resembling in shape a small clove of garlic. These
are dug up by women at several sandy patches along the coast.
The native knowledge of all matters connected with bush life
is very wide; it covers, not only those animals and plants which
are used as food, but also the less important aspects of bush lore.
This is exemplified in the vocabulary in which every animal,
bird, insect or plant has a name, and in the case of the more im-
portant species, two or three names.
The coastal Karadjeri have been, since the latter decades of
the last century, in contact with white men as well as with the
coloured crews of pearling luggers which frequently put into the
creeks for supplies of water. However, the settlement of the country
by white people has at no time been dense, and the inland mem-
bers of the tribe have had very little contact with whites or Asiatics.
The effect of white influence upon the culture has been a
general weakening of tribal tradition. The aspect of the culture
which has suffered most is the local organization; many of the
natives are content to live away from their own country for
considerable periods of time, but there still exists a very powerful
bond between a man and the district to which he belongs. The
kinship organization has also suffered disintegration, though the
more binding usages and prohibitions associated with it are still
maintained. Fights between hordes are becoming less common
(though camp brawls are still fairly frequent) and killing is quite
rare. It seems probable that even before the advent of the white
man the Karadjeri were an exceptionally peaceful tribe.
Kinship
As with all Australian tribes, kinship is a most important and
complex feature of Karadjeri culture, particularly in the regula-
tion of marriage. The general marriage rule of the inland Karad-
jeri is that a man marries his mother’s brother’s daughter, real
or classificatory. But there are certain restrictions on this kind of
marriage, and marriages with other types of kin also occur, for
example, with sister’s son’s daughter and with sister’s daughter’s
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 79
husband’s sister’s daughter. The terminology of Karadjeri kin-
ship will be discussed in the next chapter. At this point we may
note that, in common with many other Australian tribes, the
Karadjeri classify kin into four sections . 1 These sections may be
diagrammatically represented as follows:
.Panaka = Burung,.
^•Karimba = Paldjerr
In this diagram, parallel lines indicate marriage and arrows the
allocation of children to sections according to that of their mother J
Thus a Panaka man marries a Burung woman and the children
belong to the Paldjcri section; a Paldjeri man marries a Karimba
woman and the children belong to the Panaka section; a Burung
man marries a Panaka woman and the children belong to the
Karimba section, and a Karimba man marries a Paldjeri woman
and the children belong to the Burung section. For ceremonial and
descriptive purposes the sections are grouped in different ways.
r fhus it will be seen that Panaka and Paldjeri together constitute
a patrilineal moiety, and the same is true of Burung and Karimba.
These patrilineal moieties have no names, but each man calls his
own moiety nganirangu and the other kalycra. Each of the two
intermarrying pairs of sections is called m'reram'rera and the
matrilineal moieties (Panaka-Karimba and Burung-Paldjeri)
are called kagaramada.
The section organization provides a convenient means of
classifying kin, especially for ceremonial purposes, and the same
may be said of the various groupings of the sections. Thus, at
initiation the ceremonial obligations of various individuals depend
upon their rerain* rcra, while in the case of totemic increase
ceremonies it is the patrilineal moieties which are prominent.
Local Organization
An important feature of Karadjeri culture is the local organiza-
tion, though it is impossible to give an adequate account of it.
1 In older works on Australian sociology, such groupings arc often called marriage
classes . But this term is misleading, since the sections are primarily ceremonial in
function, marriage being regulated by the underlying individual relationships of kin-
ship. It may be mentioned that many Australian tribes, such as the Aranda, have an
even more complex way of classifying kin into eight subsections , and this again is
correlated with their specific types of kinship organization.
* This does not mean that the system is matrilineal. Neither is it patrilineal. The
diagrammatic representation is one of convenience only. A child belongs neither to the
section of its father nor to that of its mother. It belongs to another section altogether,
the identity of which is determined by the section membership of both parents.
80 COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
As elsewhere in Australia, it was the first element of culture to be
destroyed by contact with the white man. This difficulty is intensi-
fied by the fact that the original local organization varied some-
what from the usual Australian form and that white influence has
apparently intensified this deviation. In particular the Karadjeri
horde is limited in the proprietary rights which it exercises over
its own territory, particularly in the case of the Nadja subtribe.
The general Australian practice is that each horde owns a speci-
fied territory over which its members may hunt, but on which no
members of other hordes may hunt or camp except with the per-
mission or at the invitation of the owners. Throughout the entire
Nadja territory, this rule does not exist. Certain small exogamous
groups exist, but they lack the solidarity which characterizes the
normal Australian horde; small parties composed of less than a
dozen individuals from any horde may go on hunting expeditions
lasting several months, over the territory of any other horde,
without asking the permission of the owners, who would not
object.
In spite of the freedom of movement which is possible between
them, the Nadja hordes are similar in other respects to the
normal Australian local group. Thus in the first place the horde
is exogamous, this fact being expressed by the Nadja Karadjeri
in the statement that a man may not marry a woman from his
own ngura (district). There is also a prohibition against marriage
between persons whose ngura are close together, in fact, there is a
very strong feeling that where possible a wife should come from
as far away as possible.
One common feature of the Australian horde is that it has a
patrilineal clan associated with it; such a state of affairs must
necessarily be based upon patrilocal marriage, so that all the men
and the unmarried girls of the horde belong to one patrilineal
moiety, while all the married women come from other hordes
and belong to the other moiety. But it seems probable that the
Karadjeri never possessed a rigid clan associated with their local
groups, but that there was a general tendency for the majority of
men of one locality to belong to one or other of the two moieties,
a state of affairs which was probably preserved by the pre-
dominance of patrilocal marriages.
As in other Australian tribes, Karadjeri government is carried
out by an informal council of elders. In every horde there are
several old men who have been initiated into the midedi feast,
THE KARADJERI TRIBE Si
which will be described later. When decisions have to be taken,
they meet together and confer, the opinions of the more forceful
and intelligent individuals carrying more weight in the discussion
than those of others. The leadership of the old men is most
prominent in ceremonial activities, in which they decide upon
such matters as times of performance, make all preliminary
arrangements and actively direct the ceremonies themselves.
Religion and Magic
Karadjcri religion centres around a complex of beliefs and
practices connected with initiation and totemic increase cere-
monies, which will be described presently. In addition to these
collective rites, there is a certain amount of magic of a more
individual kind, but at present this plays a comparatively small
part in the social life of the Karadjeri. Like other Australian
tribes, they have a belief in the powers of certain persons, and the
efficacy of certain magical ritual, but this belief does not play an
important part in social life. This is probably correlated with a
low degree of development in the institution of warfare, since in
Australian society affrays which lead to killing, as opposed to
minor brawls involving slight wounds and a considerable amount
of bad language, are very frequently due to a belief in murder by
magic.
The medicine men appear to sen e a function conforming to the
general Australian type, though neither their powers nor their
influence appear to be as great as, for example, among the
Aranda. In addition to rain-making and the detection of mur-
derers, their chief powers are killing at a distance iudja) and curing
sickness. As elsewhere, they receive their status and powers from
a mythical water-serpent ( bulaing ), who blows water upon them
in a dream. The udja method of killing produces a number of
deaths in the horde against which it is directed. A heap of mud is
made with a hole in it; in the hole is placed spinifex grass which
is set on fire, and a pirmal 1 is placed upright in the mound. A
circumcision knife is rested on the top of the pirmal , and fragments
chipped from it in the direction in which the deaths are desired.
Sickness is said to be caused by a bad spirit inside the body of
the patient; this can be heard by a medicine man making, he
1 Pirmal arc sacred objects consisting of wooden boards carved on one side with
traditional markings. These markings are not totemic, but are connected with the
mythology of initiation described below.
82 COOKS* TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
says, a sound like a bull-roarer. When the medicine man comes to
the patient, it is believed that he has a spirit pirmal inside him.
He lies on top of the patient, who immediately feels cool, and
should soon recover. Sometimes the medicine man bites the
affected part and produces a piece of human-hair string from it.
The belief that such foreign bodies, which may be abstracted by a
medicine man, are the cause of illness is a common feature of
Australian curative magic.
A rain-making ceremony is sometimes carried out during the
ladjaladja season, that is, before the rain sets in. A medicine man
digs a hole near a native well; from this hole he takes quartz
crystals which he throws in the air and then picks up again; the
medicine man then “drinks” the crystals, that is, he places them
in his mouth, where they disappear.
Totemism
The totemic system of the Karadjeri is of fundamental impor-
tance in the social life of the natives, since it is functionally related
to every other element in their culture and determines to a very
great extent the attitude towards life of the individual living in
Karadjeri society.
The Karadjeri language has two words for totem, namely
bugari and kumbali , but the two words have somewhat different
associations, the former referring primarily to the religious and
the latter to the social aspect of totemism. Kumbali also means
“namesake”. The term bugari , like the word alchera among the
Aranda, possesses several meanings. In the first place it connotes
that which has a binding force upon the society; to describe an
institution or custom as bugari means that it has a special sanction
which renders it inviolable. This is derived from the fact that all
things which are bugari were instituted by mythical beings in
bugari times, that is, in the distant past when the world was
created. Thus the most general meaning of the term when
applied to a social institution or custom is that it has a sort of
categorical imperative associated with it.
Apart from its reference to the period of the world’s inception
and the sanction for present institutions derived therefrom, the
word bugari is also used to denote the totem of an individual. The
connection is fairly clear when we consider that each totemic
group is derived from an ancestor or ancestors who in bugari times
instituted it, and thus in Karadjeri totemism the individual is
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 83
linked, through his membership of the totemic group, not only
with the other members of the group and the associated natural
species, but also with bugari times.
Associated with the last meaning is another use of the word to
denote dreams; this again is quite clear in view of the fact that
the most important aspect of dreams, in the native mind, is that
through a dream a father establishes the patrilineal inheritance
of the totem by his children.
Every Karadjeri man or woman possesses one or more totems.
There is a prohibition against killing or eating the totemic
species. Totems are acquired by individuals as follows. Before a
child is born its father dreams that he sees his own bugari together
with a yardanggal (spirit child). The scene of the dream is always
located in the father’s own horde territory, though he may be
absent from it at the time; th z yardanggal subsequently enters the
man’s wife, who becomes pregnant. Now a man must dream of
his own bugari in this way, so that totemism may be said to be
patrilineal; but he may also dream of other bugari of his own
moiety. It thus happens that many individuals have three or four
totems, and that totems do not belong exclusively to specific
hordes, though the increase centres associated with them do, and
the increase ceremonies must be directed by a man of the local
group in whose territory the centre is situated.
Though the director or leader of the increase ceremonies has
full control over the performance of the ritual, he may be assisted
by other men and under certain circumstances by women. In
cases where the last man of the appropriate totem dies, he
bequeaths his title to another man of the same ngura (district) and
not to a member of the same totem belonging to a different
ngura. It thus appears that increase ceremonies are associated
primarily with the districts in which the increase centres
are located rather than with the individual members of the
totems.
Though the Karadjeri have localized rites for the increase of
natural species, by no means all species have increase centres
located in Karadjeri territory. It is, however, essential to note
that theoretically (in the minds of the natives) all important
natural species have increase centres somewhere, and a number
of these in the territories of surrounding tribes can be named as
the place where certain increase ceremonies are carried out.
People of one or other of the two patrilineal moieties are always
84 COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
conceived as directing the ceremony, though they are assisted by
members of the other moiety.
Increase centres are generally located at places where the
natural species in question is plentiful. Thus, for example,
Birdinapa Point is the best place on the coast for any kind of
fishing, and here are located a number of fish increase centres.
Increase ceremonies are usually performed once a year, and
when a natural species appears at one season only, the ceremony
associated with that species is performed just before it becomes
plentiful. On the other hand, the increase ceremonies associated
with those foods which are perennial may be carried out at any
time.
An invariable accompaniment to Karadjeri increase ceremonies
is a series of instructions uttered by the performers as they carry
out the ritual; these are of one general pattern, and consist of
instructions to the species to become plentiful. They are continued
throughout the ceremonies, various ngura (districts) being named
in succession as places where the totem in question should become
abundant. In reciting these lists of ngura the natives name only
those places in which the species is actually to be found. The
instructions are associated with the belief that all increase centres
were instituted in bugari times, when a number of spirit members
of the species were left at the centres; these come out under the
influence of the ritual and so ensure the increase of the natural
species. Sometimes a song associated with the mythological origin
of the ceremony is sung.
At many of the increase ceremonies decorations are worn, but
these, probably owing to European influence, are sometimes
omitted. The decorations most commonly used are powdered
charcoal, red ochre, white mangrove mud, white down from such
birds as the native companion, and human blood obtained by
boring a hole in the forearm of one of the performers with a
pointed wallaby bone. The latter rite may not be witnessed by
women or uninitiated males.
The following descriptions of a few typical increase ceremonies
will provide some idea of the character of the ritual.
Increase of parrot fish . — The increase centre for parrot fish is
situated at Cape Bossut. It consists of an ovoid stone, about
eighteen inches in length, partially buried in the ground. This
represents a parrot fish. The director of the ceremony digs away
the earth from around the stone, at the same time saying that
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 85
parrot fish arc to increase and asking for a plentiful supply. As
the earth is dug out it is scattered north and south, various coastal
ngura being named and the fish being told to be plentiful in these
places. When a quantity of earth has been removed the stone is
taken out and laid on its side near the hole from which it has been
taken. It is then addressed as follows: “At low tide you will lie
like this!” After this the stone is painted with charcoal and also
red and yellow ochre mixed with grease, replaced in its hole, and
packed around with earth. Branches of trees are then held resting
on the stone for a moment and then swept down a pathway
towards the ocean. This ensures that fish will leave the rock and
go down the path to the sea.
The ritual as described above may be witnessed by women,
but sometimes human blood is poured upon the stone in the
belief that it will make the fish fat, and in this case women are, of
course, excluded. The ceremony is performed during the wilburu
or ladja season, and at this time the fish are caught upon the reef
at low tide. The ritual belongs to the Burung-Karimba moiety.
Increase of cockles . — On either side of a small mangrove creek
at Lagrange Bay are several heaps of cockle-shells. Each of these
heaps (on the northern bank of the creek) represents a shell, and a
solitary one on the southern bank represents the fish inside. The
latter is the cockle increase centre, where a ceremony for the
increase of cockles may be performed at any time of the year,
since this kind of food is a perennial article of diet. At the cere-
mony, which belongs to the Burung-Karimba moiety, no decora-
tions are worn, and women may assist. The ceremony is a very
simple one, and consists of cleaning out a hole at the top of the
mound.
The ceremony was instituted in bugari times by Djui (bower-
bird) who, together with his wife (who was also a bower-bird),
came from a district to the north. Djui made a nest in a tree and a
playground; his diet consisted solely of fish and shell-fish. He
made a small fish trap consisting of a yard of stones, and one day,
on looking into it, saw a number of fish. He then travelled down
the coast making the present native fish traps, semicircular rows
of stones in which fish are caught as the tide recedes. He killed a
mullet, the body of which became a stone, which is now the
mullet increase centre, and he also instituted the cockle increase
centre.
After a while the exclusive diet of fish began to disagree with
86 COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
Djui and his wife. They became very sick and finally died, leaving
the fish traps, and instructing people not to live on fish alone but
to eat meat and vegetable foods as well. They also gave the tradi-
tion that men obtain fish, because Djui did so, while women
collect and cook cockles because his wife performed these duties.
Increase of crow and pink cockatoo . — This is a type of increase
ritual, of which there are other examples, in which the increase
centres of two natural species are located close to each other.
Between Lagrange Bay and Injidan Plain is a large dark-coloured
stone projecting from the ground. This is an increase centre for
djowari (crow); about twenty yards distant is a centre for the
increase oi ngagalil (pink cockatoo). The two ceremonies are per-
formed together, during the pargana season, that of djowari first.
This ceremony belongs to the Panaka-Paldjeri moiety, and the
ngagalil ceremony to the Burung-Karimba moiety.
The performers clean away any leaves, sticks or other litter
from around the djowari stone. They then lay their hands upon
the stone, stroking it and asking crows to become plentiful. When
this is concluded, they move on to the ngagalil increase centre,
which consists of several light-red coloured stones just projecting
above the ground. These they clean and rub in a similar manner,
sitting around them on the ground.
The mythological origin of this ceremony is associated with the
legend of a crow man (Djowari) who had two wives, one of whom
was also a Djowari and the other a Ngagalil. Of these two women
the former was less attractive physically than the latter. For this
reason their husband preferred Ngagalil, which made the other
wife jealous. Each day the two women used to go collecting ants’
eggs. They used to work some little distance from each other, and
the Djowari woman used to insult Ngagalil by obscene remarks
regarding her sexual attractiveness.
One day the Djowari woman had a large piece of wax in her
hand. She threw this at Ngagalil, breaking her leg and killing her.
She then returned to their camp, and when her husband asked
her where his other wife was, she replied that she had remained
in the bush. After waiting several days the man became suspicious,
and on searching he found the dead body, which he buried.
Returning to the camp, he said nothing to the Djowari woman,
but built a large fire into which he threw her. She cried out “ wdti\
and so perished. This is why crows are black, and give out
mournful cries to this day.
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 87
The tracks of Ngagalil arc represented in the sky by the four
bright stars of Gorvus. The tracks of Djowari may be seen as the
four brightest stars in Delphinus.
Increase of eaglehawk. — About twenty miles east of Lagrange is a
depression in the ground surrounding a native well. Around this
are several stones which represent a number of bugari birds. The
largest of these is an increase centre for wolaguru (wedge-tailed
eagle or eaglehawk), and here an increase ceremony is per-
formed at the end of the pargana or beginning of the wilburu
season. The ceremony is performed by men, though women of
the wolaguru totem may help. The ritual belongs to the Panaka-
Paldjeri moiety.
A wallaby is killed for the ceremony, and after the performers
have cleaned the ground around the stone the animal is evis-
cerated and the viscera rubbed upon the stone in order to tempt
the spirit wolaguru within (Plate I, frontispiece). The remainder
of the wallaby is subsequently eaten by the natives in the ordinary
way.
The mythology associated with this ceremony is described as
follows: Wolaguru was camped near the present increase centre.
Bilari (pelican) and a number of other “coastal” birds came up,
and started to abuse Wolaguru, who in turn insulted them.
Bilari and Wolaguru fought, and the former struck the latter on
the back with a club. Thus was established the Wolaguru increase
centre.
Increase of nalgoo . — There is a centre for the increase of nalgoo
near Gape Bossut. The ceremony is of an unusual type, being
entirely carried out by women, under the direction of men. At
the increase centre are a number of pebbles which are said to
represent nalgoo. The women place the pebbles in their wooden
dishes, and, holding the latter high in the air, allow the
pebbles to fall into heaps on the ground, the dust being blown
away from them by the wind as they fall, as does chaff in win-
nowing. A number of heaps are made in this way. It should be
noted that this ceremony must be performed at a time when a
westerly wind is blowing, so that the spirit nalgoo may be dis-
seminated over the land. If the ceremony were performed in a
south-east wind, they would be blown out to sea and the per-
formance of the ceremony rendered futile.
We have referred to myths connected with increase ceremonies.
But it must be emphasized that these form but a part of a much
S.A. 1 — 8
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COOKS* TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
wider system of mythology. Of the many Karadjeri myths of
bugari times, the majority are totemic, that is to say, they describe
the activities of beings who were neither men nor animals , 1 but
exhibited alternately the characters of both of these types of
creature. This is a common feature of Australian mythology,
and of primitive mythology generally. Some of the myths, how-
ever, concern mythical beings who are not identified with any
natural species, and hence cannot be described as totemic. But
one must remember that in the minds of the natives the two types
of myth form part of an integrated whole — the legendary history
of the aborigines. The sacred myths, which may not be told to
women, are concerned mainly with cosmogony, and especially with
the institution of the initiation ceremonies to be described presently.
Karadjeri myths have certain structural or stylistic character
istics, and very frequently, in concluding the recounting of a
myth, informants offer a moralistic interpretation of the story.
The most general form of the myths is as follows. The story opens
with a certain state of affairs existing; this is indicated by the
natives by describing one day’s events and then repeating them
for successive days, the series of activities being repeated in
exactly the same form over and over again. For the sake of
brevity this has been abbreviated by describing the events as
occurring every day or on a number of occasions. Given, then,
this existing state of affairs, a denouement occurs, generally resulting
in the death of one of the characters. By this means some element
of either the natural or the moral order is established. This is the
most general form of the myths, though variations sometimes
occur. A common feature of Karadjeri myths is their association
with specific landmarks, such as stones, hills, creeks, or even trees,
the traditional institution of increase centres being a particular
example of this principle.
Among the Karadjeri the mythology of the heavens plays an
important part in the beliefs connected with immortality. It is
generally believed that the sky consists of a dome of a very hard
substance (rock or shell), the stars representing the spirits of
dead men and women, including mythological characters. As to
the stars themselves, there is considerable difference of opinion;
some say that they are just globes of light, but others believe that
they are individual nautilus shells with the fish alive inside them.
1 The word “animal”, as used here, includes birds, insects, reptiles and other
natural species.
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 89
On the latter view shooting stars are caused by the death of the
fish and the dropping of its shell . 1
The natives think of the various stars in terms of the time of
year at which they are clearly visible (that is, when they appear
well above the horizon) during the early part of the night. They
realize, however, that they are, generally speaking, actually
visible for a total period of several months, and can generally
give with a fair degree of accuracy the time of the heliacal rising
of any large star.
From the extraordinarily rich totemic mythology of the Karad-
jeri a few traditions may be selected as examples.
Myth of Pardjida and Langgur . — Pardjida (native cat) cut off the
hair of Langgur (opossum) with a sharp tomahawk. Langgur
made a stick for winding hair, and using it proceeded to make
opossum wool thread from his own hair. All night he twirled the
stick, the noise of which prevented Pardjida from sleeping. One
day Pardjida became so annoyed that he struck Langgur on the
chest with a fire-stick made of wood of a yellowish-brown colour.
Langgur then took a burning stick of another kind of wood and
struck Pardjida with it, the ash marking his body with white
spots. The ash of this wood is said to be highly corrosive. So to this
day male opossums have a brown mark on their chests and native
cats are covered with white spots. The spirit of Pardjida may be
seen in the sky as the star Alpha of the constellation Cygnus and
that of Langgur as Capclla in Auriga. The tracks of Langgur may
be seen as several pairs of faint stars between Auriga and Taurus.
Myth of Yalwa and Nalgumidi . — Yalwa (rat kangaroo) and
Nalgumidi (bandicoot) decided to go out collecting vegetable
food. They went in different directions, and Nalgumidi collected
a quantity of runggur (a root) while Yalwa obtained barn (another
root). Each cooked what he had collected separately, and when
the food was ready to eat, they both came together in the one
camp. Yalwa gave Nalgumidi some baru , but Nalgumidi did not
give Yalwa any runggur , returning instead the baru which he had
1 There are, however, two other theories as to shooting stars. According to one of
these, a shooting star indicates that an important man has died, the direction of the
meteorite indicating where the death has occurred. The other version is that shooting
stars represent fragments of the dead body of Marela (a bugari culture hero) falling
from the tree in which he was buried. Every star in the heavens represents the spirit
of some deceased man or woman, while the more important stars and even constella-
tions represent certain objects and persons mentioned in the myths. Theoretically, of
course, all such individuals have a place in the sky, but the stars to which they corres-
pond are known in a limited number of cases only.
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COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
received from him. Yalwa did not see the way in which he had
been deceived. The same thing occurred every day, Nalgumidi
always keeping the runggur to himself and returning Yalwa’s bant.
One night Nalgumidi accidentally allowed some of his runggur
to become mixed with the baru which he returned to Yalwa.
When he tasted it, the latter knew that he had been deceived,
and, seizing a stick, he chased Nalgumidi off to the south, where
they both died.
Kunbalubalu myth. — A man had a dingo called Kunbalubalu,
which he used to send to chase kangaroos. Each day the dingo
caught a kangaroo, and the man used to send the dingo out again,
but he never caught more than one each day. This used to annoy
the man, who refused to give him water or the viscera of the
kangaroos which he caught. When a camp was made at night he
used to cover up the well with logs so that the dingo could not
obtain any water to drink. In the morning, however, he used to
give him a small drink of water and send him out again. One
night, the well having been covered up as usual, Kunbalubalu
feeling very hot and thirsty went prowling in search of water.
Some distance from the camp he smelt water and, having located
it, slaked his thirst.
In the morning his master awoke and missed him. Finding
tracks he followed and finally found him. Kunbalubalu attacked
his master, knocking him down and finally killing him. Kunba-
lubalu thus gave the tradition that men must be kind to their
dogs, must always feed them and give them water to drink.
Djarabalbal myth . — Djarabalbal (top-knot pigeon) was a woman
who used to go out collecting food, but she used to spend a great
amount of time tying her hair up into a pointed knot. As a result
she never collected much food, and this occasioned a considerable
amount of comment among the men at the camp. One day they
followed her and saw the way in which she wasted her time. They
frightened her, and she flew up into the sky, thus giving the tradi-
tion that women must not waste time when collecting food, and
also that they must not arrange their hair as men sometimes do,
that is, by tying it up into a pointed structure which is not unlike
the crest of the top-knot pigeon. The spirit of Djarabalbal is
represented by one of the smaller stars in the constellation Auriga.
Kargidja myth. — A man Kargidja (a kind of hawk) used to
approach the camp of a number of people, and, seeing smoke a
little way off, would ask who was camped there. When told that it
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 91
was the camp of a menstruating woman, he would approach and
have sexual intercourse with her. One day the woman saw him
coming near and cried out. This frightened Kargidja, who flew
away and died at Birdinapa Point, where he became a stone.
Thus arose the tradition that men must not have intercourse with
a menstruating woman.
Bardarangalu myth . — A mother Bardarangalu (snake) was
always sick, every day and every night. Every night she died and
her two sons buried her. The boys used to go away and leave her
in the ground, and she would shed her skin and follow them to
their camp. The old woman’s grave was near the water, and one
day a frog came out of the water and saw the dead woman in the
ground. He sat on the grave and croaked several times, at the
same time wriggling about on his buttocks, and after this the old
woman did not rise again. This was the origin of death.
Tindjiyindji myth . — Yindjiyindji (mantis) used to talk all the
time, thus producing the south-east wind. The result was that
this wind used to blow throughout the year. A number of people
wanted to kill him on this account. They used to cut him up into
a number of small pieces and leave him to die. But he always
recovered and continued to make the south-east wind.
One day a man threw a spear at Yindjiyindji’s scrotum. The
spear struck its mark and killed him. As a result of this the south-
east wind now blows during the cold season only, and not all the
year round, as before.
Initiation
Like most Australian tribes, the Karadjeri preserve a strict
differentiation between women and children on the one hand and
fully initiated men on the other. From the time when he is about
twelve years of age until two or three years after marriage every
male 1 native is called upon to take part in a series of ceremonies
by which his status in the tribe is progressively altered from that
of a child to that of a fully initiated man. Even after the last
initiation ceremony, the introduction to the midedi feast, the respect
accorded to a man continues to increase until he becomes a worara ,
a term used to describe the elders of the tribe and also its mythical
ancestors of the bugari “dream times” when the world was created.
1 In the case oi females there is but little ceremonial, though here also status is
determined to a large extent by age. The bearing of children also adds to a woman’s
prestige, and releases her from certain food restrictions.
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COOKS* TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
Throughout his initiation a youth is constantly instructed in
various traditions of the tribe. These consist primarily of certain
sacred myths, which he must never relate to women or younger
men, and of injunctions to avoid irregular sexual unions.
The most important ceremony connected with initiation is the
rite of circumcision, which may be carried out in either of two
different ways, each having a somewhat different mythology and
ritual associated with it. The other ceremonies have to a large
extent fallen into disuse owing to European influence, but it
rarely happens that a boy is not circumcised.
The two methods of circumcision may be referred to as the
southern tradition and northern tradition respectively, but we
shall consider only the first of these . 1 The institution of initiation
ceremonies is intimately associated with the cosmogony, and we
shall therefore consider initiation mythology in connection with
the wider subject of the legendary institution of the world in
general. Throughout the cosmogony incidents occur which offer
a parallel to details of the initiation ritual as carried out at the
present time, though every rite does not possess a parallel mytho-
logical incident. If questioned on these aspects of the ceremonies,
the natives say that the ritual was carried out in such and such a
way in bugari times, and must therefore be repeated in an identical
manner, though they cannot always give details. Thus the entire
ritual of initiation may be said to have been instituted in bugari
times, many of the rites being accounted for in detail.
The cosmogony consists of a series of incidents which are related
in no very definite order. A song is associated with each of these
incidents, but the order of the singing of these songs is not fixed.
Nevertheless, it is possible to distinguish a general outline in the
myths, which is as follows : before the time of two brothers called
the Bagadjimbiri there was nothing at all — no trees, no water,
no people, no animals, and so on. They made these things, and
instituted the world as it is at present. The two brothers arose in
territory belonging to the Nyangamada tribe, to the south of the
Karadjeri, and travelled north-east, following a route parallel to
the coast, several miles inland ; in the vicinity of Broome they
turned back and came down the coast, making frequent trips
inland, thus preserving a zigzag course as far as Nyangamada
territory, where they died.
The following is a very abbreviated account of some of the
1 For a comparison of the two traditions, see Fiddington (a).
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 93
incidents in the Bagadjimbiri myth: When they first arose from
the ground, the Bagadjimbiri were two dingos l ; they later be-
came gigantic men, reaching up to the sky, and when they died
their bodies became water-snakes, while their spirits became the
Magellan Clouds.
When the Bagadjimbiri arose, it was just before the twilight of
the first day; they heard the note of a small bird, which regularly
sings at this time, and saw that it was twilight. Before this they
knew nothing. They subsequently saw all animals and plants, to
which they gave the appropriate names.
One of the Bagadjimbiri micturated, a function which, of
course, had never been performed before. When his brother
observed him, he became curious and imitated him. Now black
fellows can relieve themselves in this way. They saw a star and the
moon, both of which they named.
The Bagadjimbiri then travelled north-east parallel to the coast,
instituting various geographical features in the territory of the
Mangala, Djualing, Nyigini and Yauor tribes. The Bagadjimbiri
saw a number of men and women who were organized in the
correct way; the Bagadjimbiri gave them their relationship
terms.
Over the whole area covered by them the Bagadjimbiri
instituted the water supply in the following manner. Whenever
they were thirsty they would look for water and, finding none,
since none existed before their time, they would hold their pirmal
in a perpendicular position and drive them down into the
ground. As a result of this a spring or well of fresh water would
appear.
Before the time of the Bagadjimbiri men and women had no
genital organs. The Bagadjimbiri found a white pordi (an elon-
gated toadstool) and a panora (bulb-shaped fungus). They saw a
number of men and women who, like themselves, had no genital
organs. They picked a gum-tree leaf, put it to their mouths and
breathed upon it ; they then cut the panora with the sharp edge of
the leaf in the shape of a vulva, and at once all the women were
provided with genital organs. Next they cut the pordi in the shape
of a penis, and at once all the men acquired genital organs. At
another time they saw sponges resembling a woman’s breast and
called them by the same name ( ngama ).
1 Though the legend later tells of their mother, the native insist that the Bagad-
jimbiri were not born in the usual way, but simply arose out of the ground.
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COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
The Bagadjimbiri collected some wattle seed and ate it raw.
They knew that this was wrong and laughed. Then one of the
brothers tried cooking the seed, so that now men may cook their
food. From the top of a hill near the sea they saw a large stingaree,
and threw a pirmal at it. The pirmal went right through its
body and emerged at the other end, this being the origin
of the sting in its tail. In the territory of the Muli horde
the Bagadjimbiri left a hitting stick. Blackfellows subsequently
found the hitting stick and were thereafter able to make
this type of implement. The hitting stick lost by the Bagad-
jimbiri is represented in the sky by the pointers of the Southern
Cross.
The Bagadjimbiri instituted the initiation ceremonial associated
with the southern tradition, and used for the first time the sacred
objects employed in the ritual, the stone circumcision knife, bull-
roarer and the large pirmal ; using the circumcision knife they
carved the characteristic markings on the bull-roarer and pirmal.
The Bagadjimbiri differentiated the Nadja and Nangu dialects
of the Karadjcri language.
The Bagadjimbiri saw Tabaring (a snake man) and sang a song
to produce snakes. This song may be sung once only . 1 If sung
more often it might cause someone to be bitten by a snake. In a
similar way the song by which the Bagadjimbiri instituted the
hurricane or “willy-willy” may be sung only once, and that only
when there is good reason, for example, when it is being told to a
young man at initiation.
The Bagadjimbiri had very long hair. They shook their heads
and pulled out a number of their hairs, one of which they gave
to each local group. They saw a native cat man called Ngariman,
and gave him a number of hairs from their heads, which may be
seen at the present time as the black fur on the tails of native cats.
When they saw Ngariman’s buttocks they laughed; this annoyed
Ngariman, who, together with some others, killed the Bagad-
jimbiri with spears. This happened in Nyangamada territory and
Dilga, the mother of the Bagadjimbiri, who was camped near
Lagrange, smelt the south-east wind and detected the odour of
decomposing flesh. Milk came out of her breasts and flowed
underground to the place where the Bagadjimbiri had died.
There it emerged, drowning the murderers and bringing the two
heroes back to life again. Their spirits subsequently went up
1 In contradistinction to other songs which may be repeated ad nauseam.
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 95
into the sky to form the Magellan Clouds, while their bodies
became water-snakes . 1
Having presented the mythological background of initiation
ritual, we may now turn to an examination of the ceremonies
themselves. These consist of a scries of rites which correspond to
stages through which a male individual must pass before he
becomes a fully adult member of the tribe. Most of the ceremonies
are considered by the natives to be of minor importance, and all
except circumcision and the introduction of the midedi feast have,
generally speaking, fallen into disuse.
Milya rite . — At about the age of twelve a boy is taken into the
bush and decorated from head to foot with human blood. About
two weeks later a hole is bored through his nasal septum, and
the quill of some large bird (wedge-tailed eagle, bustard or
pelican) is inserted in the hole. This is worn by the boy for a few
weeks and then removed, though a quill is occasionally worn in
later life as a decoration. After the milya rite a boy is called
nimamUy until he goes on his “walk-about” before circumcision,
which takes place a year or two later.
Circumcision . — When the time has come for a boy to be circum-
cised, a man who stands in the relation of elder brother to him
(preferably his own elder brother) asks the novice’s father’s con-
sent to the operation. Though the boy’s father is expected to give
his permission, it would be impossible to circumcise the boy
should he refuse to do so. After the usual discussions the old men
agree that the ceremony must take place, and the women are
told that the boy is to be made a man, though they do not, of
course, know what is to happen.
When it is thus agreed that a boy should be circumcised, a
number of members of neighbouring hordes assemble at the boy’s
camp. The novice is told to sit down by a fire alone. A man who
may stand in any relation (except that of father) to him, but who
must not be a “near” 2 relative, comes up behind him as he sits
1 There are several versions of* the death of the Bagadjimbiri. In most o. these their
revivification is not mentioned. In the simplest version they simply died of weariness
and old age, while other forms of the legend relate how Dilga drowned the murderers
either with water, using her digging stick in the same way as the Bagadjimbiri used
their pirmal , or with her own menstrual blood,
2 The distinction between near ( lam ) and distant (kadjeri) relatives plays an im-
portant part in initiation ritual, though it is difficult to fix the precise meaning of the
terms. Part of the initiation ritual devolves upon relatives who must be closely
related to the novice and part upon persons who must not be in any way closely
related. Here, as elsewhere in Australia, the terms “near” and “distant” possess at
once a genealogical and a geographical significance.
96 COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
beside the fire and, throwing his arms around the novice, drags
him away, telling him that he is now a malulu. This rite, which is
termed badurmana , may be performed by a JAMBARDU 1 who
comes from a nearby horde, such a person being regarded as the
most suitable relative to perform the function in question — any
other relative performing the rite must come from a distant horde.
The malulu is then led by his badurmana relative to an old man
who weeps with him while everybody assembles. He is then taken
to a cleared place where everybody is assembled, sitting closely
packed together on the ground, all facing in one direction. The
men sit in front and the women behind, certain types of relative
being assigned special positions. Thus all those related to the
malulu as BABALA or KALUJI sit in front of the group; next
come his YAGU, TABULU (including his own father, who must
be present) and KAGA. A similar arrangement exists among the
women; nearest to the men (that is, in the front of the women’s
group) sit the boy’s kami and kabuju , and behind them his kurdaing ,
tabulu and dalu.
The novice is taken to his nearest relatives in turn, and they
weep over him, a special procedure being adopted. The boy sits
on the ground with his back to the relative in question, while the
latter places his or her arms around the novice’s waist at the same
time weeping copiously. Sometimes the person who is weeping will
reach for a boomerang or other implement which happens to be
lying handy and will strike his head with it, wailing at the top of
his voice until someone comes up and, seizing the boomerang,
prevents him from inflicting further pain upon himself. The
women are particularly vigorous in this self-mutilation.
Each of the individuals to whom the malulu is taken must weep,
though the emotion exhibited tends to be more formal and of
briefer duration in the case of more distant relatives.
Immediately after this weeping ceremony there is a ritual
exchange of vegetable food between the members of the boy’s
local group and the visitors who are present — meat or fish, how-
ever, is not exchanged, each party keeping their own supply to
themselves. The malulu himself is led aside and eats food with one
or two younger boys. He must not sit directly upon the ground,
but upon leaves laid down for the purpose. Similarly, when he
sleeps at night, he must have a couch of leaves and must rest his
1 The meaning of this and other classificatory kinship terms employed here may be
ascertained by reference to Fig. 7, p. 123.
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 97
head upon a pile of weapons, boomerangs, shields and hitting
sticks.
The above ceremonies take place late in the afternoon, and,
when night falls, the malulu is led away into the bush, where he
hears a number of sacred songs for the first time. This ceremony
(called yuna) acts as a preliminary to the all-night singing which
immediately precedes circumcision.
The next morning the malulu is again taken to the bush, where
a number of men sit around a cleared place, the boy being led
aside while preparations are being made. Several men tie liga-
tures around their arms and pierce a vein in their forearms with a
pointed wallaby bone, the blood so produced being allowed to
flow into a bark dish. The malulu , who is completely naked, is
brought up and told to stand over a small fire upon which green
leaves have been placed, the smoke enveloping the boy. He then
sits down on the ground, his eyes being covered by a man’s hand
and bark or leaves being placed in his ears. He is forced to drink
blood from the bark dish, while a medicine man rubs his abdomen
to prevent him from vomiting. While he is drinking the blood he is
exhorted not to vomit lest he should offend a spirit ( miruru ), who
would kill his father, mother and sisters. After the boy has con-
sumed a quantity of blood, his TABULU, KAGA, BABALA and
YAGU also drink some. It is said that the boy believes that
the blood will kill him until he sees the older men drinking it.
During the whole rite there is much teasing of the boy, who is
asked whether he knows the name of the blood, and is held up to
derision because he does not reply.
After the drinking of the blood several men loosen the ligatures
around their arms and allow the blood to squirt out, directing the
streams on to the head of the boy, who sits with a shield resting
upon his legs. When a considerable amount of blood has thus been
allowed to flow over the novice’s body, the latter is sprinkled with
powdered charcoal and the blood on it allowed to dry.
The malulu then receives a number of human-hair girdles lent
to him by various relatives, but these must be placed around his
waist by a KADJERI JAMBARDU. The party then move off to
the place where the women are waiting and the close relatives of
the malulu weep over him as before. Again he sits apart for
a while with some younger boys, after which he returns to the
main group of his relatives, with whom he eats vegetable food —
he may not eat meat or fish.
98
COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
When this ritual meal is concluded, a number of women gather
round the malulu . One of these who is a lani kabali , jambardu or
kami (the first of these is the most appropriate relative) to the boy
gives him a lighted fire-stick, telling him that he must go away as a
malulu should, observing all the obligations imposed upon him. The
boy is told that the purpose of the fire-stick is to light a fire in which
his penis is to be burned, and the women are told the same thing.
The novice then sets out upon a journey, or “walk-about”. He
is accompanied by a party of men who may stand in any relation
to him, but who must not be lani relatives. The man who specially
cares for the boy, instructs him, leads him about and so on is a
KADJERI JAMBARDU.
The party visits a number of camps, and at each there is a con-
siderable amount of ceremonial in which the organization of the
sections into inter-marrying pairs ( m'reram'rera ) plays an im-
portant part. On meeting the members of distant hordes, the
novice is required to go through a rite called ngambal , that is, a
ceremonial embrace in which the abdomens of the two parties
are pressed together . 1
The malulu is absent from his own camp for about twenty-four
days, during which time he travels about one hundred miles up
or down the coast. During this trip the malulu is not allowed to
speak. If he wants anything he must make a mumbling sound to
attract attention, and then indicate by gestures what he wants
Indeed, throughout the whole series of ceremonies, from the
badurmana rite until after he returns from his seclusion in the bush
after circumcision, his attitude is one of complete passivity.
While he is a malulu he never moves without being led by the
hand and moves about with bowed head, his face being completely
devoid of expression. If it were not for the readiness with which he
responds to instructions, the impression created would be that of
a mental defective.
On the return journey the novice is joined by people from those
hordes which he passes on the way, to whom we shall refer, for
the sake of brevity, as the visitors. The men of this group perform
dances around the novice at intervals along the route, and when
any camp is approached it is by a series of these dances.
When the malulu and the visitors approach the former’s horde,
' This rite may also be carried out with material objects (such as bull -roarers),
which are pressed against the abdomen of the individual who is required to ngambal
them.
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 99
the boy is once more decorated with blood, and also with red and
yellow ochre. When the members of the novice’s local group,
whom we may term the hosts, observe the approach of the
visitors, they gather on the ceremonial ground, closely packed
together and facing in the direction from which the visitors are
to approach. The arrangement of relatives has already been
described. As the malulu approaches, a small group of his more
distant female relatives belonging to his own m’ reran? rera form
two lines on either side of and to the rear of the group on the
ground. These women sing and dance, their performance being
said to be, and bearing every resemblance to, play — certainly it is
not taken very seriously. The individuals sitting on the ground,
however, preserve a serious mien and appear completely to ignore
the laughter and horseplay which are going on behind them. As the
visitors approach, several women of the party of the hosts rush
out with bushes in their hands — these they wave in the faces of
the visitors in an attempt to prevent them from coming close.
There are many expressions of hostility between the two groups,
culminating in a sort of mock fight between the women of the
boy’s group and the visitors. The former throw handfuls of
vegetable food in the direction of the visitors, while the latter
retaliate by throwing boomerangs in the direction of the hosts
seated upon the ground. These boomerangs generally fly off to the
side, but occasionally someone is struck, in which case a genuine
fight, though never a very serious one, ensues.
As the boy is led up, the playing of the women gives way to
weeping and vigorous self-mutilation. The malulu is led to the
group of his BABALA on the ground, where he sits in front of his
own TABULU, who weeps with him.
After this the visitors again approach and throw down
presents of boomerangs before the hosts, who reciprocate by
giving them vegetable food, at the same time saying that the
supply is quite inadequate and apologizing for the deficiency.
But the visitors must protest that they have been offered more than
they need. This discussion, which is purely ceremonial, takes place
quite independently of the quantity of food actually provided.
After some further ceremonial, all the visitors (including
women) seize the boy and move towards ihzyuna ground where
the circumcision is to take place, but the women go a short dis-
tance only, after which they return to the camp, where they
join the other women in a series of dances which lasts for several
too COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
hours. All the initiated male relatives of the malulu go with him to
the yuna ground, where most of them remain all night.
The night at ihcyuna is spent in singing and dancing, in which
neither the boy nor his father takes part. The dances are of the
spectacular type, several men at a time giving pantomimic
representations of various mythological events. During the night
one or two new bull-roarers, which have been specially prepared
for the novice, are passed round, and ngambal , the malulu being
covered over while this is done.
Just before dawn the boy is led away into the bush while pre-
parations are made for the operation. In these the novice’s father
takes no part. A group of men standing to the boy in the relation
of BABALA ( lani or kadjeri ) choose from three to five operators,
who must not be closely related to the novice nor belong to his
horde, and cannot under any circumstances be his KAGA.
The stone circumcision knife is passed round, and ngambal by
everyone, after which it is fixed to a spear-thrower and is
sharpened.
The operators retire some distance from the main group, while
the close relatives of the boy lie down in a prone position and hide
their faces. Two men standing to the novice in the relation of
YAGU lean over, resting upon their shields, which are held per-
pendicularly to the ground. Under the arch so formed two or
three other men kneel, thus forming a human table upon which
the novice is placed in a supine position with his legs pointing
away from the shields of his YAGU. His human-hair girdles are
removed, while one man places a hand over his mouth. His eyes
are also covered. The operators, acting in turn, then make an
incision around the base of the penis, and keep on cutting until
all the skin has been removed from the organ. There is much
weeping on the part of the boy’s close relatives.
After the operation the novice sits with his YAGU and
BABALA and is shown his circumcised penis. The blood, of
which there is little, drips on to a shield which is placed on the
ground. The initiate sits with bowed head and closed eyes while
the operators file past him weeping. They drop boomerangs as
presents before him and then leave the yuna ground, and the
initiate is told their names (which he did not know before).
Thereafter he must for a certain period observe a special relation-
ship towards all the men who have operated on him, and must not
under any circumstances mention their names.
THE KARADJERI TRIBE ioi
After the departure of the operators several young men bring
up and swing the bull-roarers, which are then shown to the novice
for the first time. The swinging of the bull-roarer is for the natives
an extremely sacred proceeding; it is always carried out by young
men, following the tradition established by the Bagadjimbiri.
Starting slowly, it is swung more and more rapidly, the performer
himself turning round and round in order to secure a better effect.
At the conclusion of the swinging the bull-roarer is not allowed
to fall on the ground, but the string is shortened while it is still
swinging and it is held for a moment vertically by the string, still
spinning before the performer’s abdomen. While still spinning
rapidly it is ngambal , and if the carved side comes into contact
with the abdomen the swinging is concluded. If, however, the
back of the bull-roarer happens to come to rest against the skin,
the swinging must be repeated until a correct ngambal is obtained.
When the blood upon his penis is dry, the novice is shown the
circumcision knife. At first he is teased about it, being told that it
is goanna fat, but finally he is told its correct name. This con-
cludes the ritual associated with circumcision, and the visitors
return to their respective districts. The initiate remains in the
bush for several weeks, being forbidden to go near any women,
though he may go hunting with the men. During this period the
novice is for the first time shown the method of producing human
blood. A pointed wallaby bone is stuck in the ground before the
novice, surrounded by human-hair string used in swinging the
bull-roarer. The initiate’s eyes are covered for a moment and then
uncovered and he is told to watch. A man sits down facing him
and very slowly ties the ligature on his arm. There is much teasing,
the novice being told that the man has a maggot in his arm which
must be extracted, and the whole proceeding gives the impression
of being prolonged as much as possible. Finally the vein is pierced
and everybody, including the novice, drinks the blood.
On the day of the novice’s return from the bush he sits on
bushes and is decorated with blood in preparation for his cere-
monial return to the main camp. He then stands holding a spear
upright while a JAMBARDU dresses him in a belt and hair-
string pubic tassel. He is told not to allow the women to see his
circumcised penis or to associate with women or children too
much for two or three days after his return.
Meanwhile, at the camp the women and children are covered
over with bushes, being forbidden to look up. The initiate is
102
COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
brought up to the accompaniment of' the swinging of bull-
roarers, and is told to sit down holding a hitting stick behind his
neck at right angles to the direction in which he is facing. He sits
in this way for some time while the branches under which the
women and children are lying are beaten with sticks by several
men. After the bull-roarers have been taken away, the women are
told to look up and see the newly initiated youth, after which
they weep over him and give him food.
Subincision . — After his return from seclusion in the bush, a
youth is termed miangu for a period of one or two years, after
which he may be subincised. This rite is regarded as a minor
ceremony, occupying one day only, and very few neighbours are
summoned. In the morning songs are sung and at about noon the
novice is taken into the bush. Two men lie prone on some bushes
and the boy is placed upon them. The operator, whose relation-
ship to the boy is limited in the same way as in circumcision,
makes a small slit in the urethra. The blood from the wound is
mixed with red ochre or charcoal, and with this mixture sacred
markings are made on the youth’s back. He is then decorated
with human-hair-string belts, which he wears crossed over his
shoulders, and a lara (an ornament resembling a bull-roarer in
shape, but devoid of any hole) is thrust through his headband in
a horizontal position at the back of his head. The initiate, who is
now called djamununggur , is then taken back to the camp. Bull-
roarers are not used, nor do the women weep.
Transition to the Bungana stage . — A short time after subincision
a young man ties around the upper arm of the djamununggur a
ligature of opossum wool, which is worn very tightly for about a
day. While he is wearing this ligature thus tightly tied, the youth
is called kambil. When the arm-band is loosened, the youth wears
a pearl-shell pubic pendant, for the first time, and thus becomes a
bungana , a stage at which he remains for several years.
Laribuga ceremony . — About half-way through the bungana stage
the youth is introduced for the first time to the laribuga ceremony
held during the pargana season and said to have been instituted by
Djui. The bungana is taken into the bush by the men, and together
with other young men he climbs a blood gum tree while the old
men stand around the bole and sing a sacred song, the meaning
of which is not known, about the tree. The song concludes with
an exhalation, and when the singing is concluded the young men
come down from the tree and a series of dances are held nearby.
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 103
Biliangu feast. — The next ceremony to be shown to the bungana
is the biliangu feast, a ceremony instituted by two culture heroes
of the sea. The biliangu feast consists primarily offish, though this
may be supplemented by other forms of food. A large quantity
offish is caught in a barricade built across one of the ramifications
of a salt-water creek. The fish is taken away into the bush, where it
is eaten at a ceremonial feast, the women being forbidden to attend.
Kurangada ceremony . — The ritual associated with the kurangada
ceremony may be shown to a young man who has reached the
status of bungana , but it may be shown in the same way to a
married man who has not witnessed it before. The ceremony is
performed at a place where large bull-roarers are kept, being
under the care of two or three old men. The novice is led up with
his eyes covered, and sits with one of these old men, while the men
standing around bend over him and stroke his shoulders with
bull-roarers. The various sacred objects are then arranged in
bundles and ngambal by the novice, after which they are laid
before him, and food which has been provided by the novice is
placed with them. The food is ngambal by the old man, who then
takes a small pellet of it, which he rubs upon the bull-roarers and
then places in the mouth of the novice. The old man and the
novice eat the food together, and after this the novice is shown
certain other sacred objects and is told of their magical properties.
Marriage. — After he has been a bungana for several years the
young man asks permission to marry. Neighbouring hordes are
not summoned, but all members of the young man’s own horde
are gathered together. The youth puts on all the ornaments which
he has received during his initiation, and is painted with a mixture
of grease and red ochre. He is told that this is bala and is the same
as menstrual blood, which is called by this name. A few weeks
later the kulakula , as the man is now called, may, if a woman has
previously been promised to him, go to her horde and claim her.
Midedi feast. — After he has been married for one or two years, a
man is introduced for the first time to the midedi feast, when he is
shown for the first time a series of places where the older men
keep the sacred objects known as pirmal. These are preserved in a
small bough shelter raised from the ground, where they are kept
with the carved side downwards. Great care is taken lest the white
ants should get to them. They are covered with a mixture of
grease and red ochre, which is renewed from time to time, special
care being taken of the carved side.
8. A. I — 9
COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCEANIA
104
When a novice is being shown the pirmal for the first time he is
left with the main party some distance from the sacred place
where the pirmal are kept, while a few men go ahead to prepare
them. All the men with the exception of the novice then decorate
themselves with powdered charcoal and place leaves in their head
and arm-bands. When it is announced that all is ready, the
novice is led along a bush track towards the place where the
pirmal are kept. The novice walks with bowed head and must
keep his eyes closed except when he is told to look up. One man
walks in front leading him by the hand, and another walks behind
the novice with his hand on the latter’s shoulder. The remaining
members of the party walk, or rather trot, for the journey is made
at a slow run, beside and behind the novice, at the same time
giving vent to staccato sounds resembling a dog’s bark.
Along the path traversed by the party are stationed men hold-
ing pirmal in various statuesque attitudes. (For example, as illus-
trated in Plate III.) When one of these is reached, the novice is
told to look up and is asked what it is. He says nothing, and,
having been told to close his eyes again, is led on to the next
figure.
When the party arrives at the bough shelter, they find the
pirmal laid on a couch of bushes with the carved sides towards the
ground. The men sit around these and turn them over one by one,
the novice sitting with bowed head while a man immediately
behind him holds his arms around his waist. There is a great
amount of singing and talking, during which the novice is told of
the institution of the pirmal by the Bagadjimbiri.
After some time the food which has been prepared is cere-
monially placed upon the heap of pirmal. At this point in the
ceremony there is a remarkable change in the attitude of the
participants. They still appear excited, but the hitherto pre-
dominant tension gives way to relaxation. There is much laughter
as the midedi feast is eaten. The party, previously grouped in a
solemn circle around the pirmal , breaks up into small groups of
men eating, talking and laughing together, while some renew
their decorations, the novice being decorated with powdered
charcoal for the first time in the ceremony.
When the midedi is finished the pirmal are replaced in their
bough shelter, and the men then return to the place where some
old women have been preparing more food, and another feast is
held there. When the men appear, the women who are sitting
PLATE ill
THE KARADJERI TRIBE 105
around the food which they have prepared retire to another
clearing about twenty yards distant and eat some food, while the
men have another feast together.
After being shown the sacred objects at one place, the novice is
subsequently taken to all the other centres of the pirmal cult in the
vicinity of his own horde territory. At each centre the midedi feast
is repeated, though much of the ritual described above is omitted,
and the emotional atmosphere is not nearly so tense as when a
man is being shown the pirmal for the first time.
11. Bibliographical Commentary
In addition to the specifically primitive peoples of Asia, certain
rural communities have been studied by social anthropologists,
for example Fei (1) and Embree (1). The reindeer peoples of
north-eastern Asia are discussed in Forde (1) and the Kazaks in
the same work and also in Murdock (1). As examples of ethno-
graphic records of the primitive tribes of India and Burma may be
cited Gorer (1), Elwin (1), Furer-Haimendorf (1 and 2), and
Stevenson (1). The latter work is an excellent account of the
economics and social life of the Chins. The Todas are described
at length in Rivers (1), but the shorter account of them in Mur-
dock (1) should prove adequate for most students.
An extensive survey of the cultures of Malaysia is contained in
Cole (1). Both Forde (1) and Murdock (1) provide descriptions of
the Semang. Radcliffe-Brown (1) gives an ethnographic account
of the Andaman Islanders and an interpretation of their beliefs
and ceremonial customs which has become a landmark in the
history of anthropological theory. Firth (13) gives an account of
the fishing industry of Malaysia as it affects a coastal community
of the Malay peninsula.
General surveys of Pacific peoples are contained in Keesing (2
and 3). Among the many accounts of Polynesian peoples may be
cited Firth (5, 8 and 10), Hogbin (2) and Mead (1). A general
survey of the place of religion in social life in Central Polynesia is
given in Piddington (4). Many valuable studies, notably those by
Sir Peter Buck, of Polynesian cultures are contained in the
publications of the Bishop Museum, some of which are cited,
together with the records of earlier observers, in the bibliographies
of Williamson (1 and 2).
As far as Melanesia is concerned, reference should be made to
the accounts of various aspects of Trobriand Island culture con-
106 COOKS’ TOUR: ASIA AND OCF.ANIA
tained in Malinowski (1-5), to the account of Malaita in Hogbin
(5), of Malekula in Deacon (1), of Manam in Wedgwood (2-4)
and of Wogeo in Hogbin (7-10). An excellent account of the
place of sorcery in a Melanesian community is contained in
Fortune (2).
The best general introduction to the study of the Australian
aborigines is Elkin (3). The standard work on Australian kin-
ship, an appreciation of which is essential to the full understand-
ing of Australian communities, is Radcliffe-Brown (2). A valuable
ethnographic record and sociological analysis of the Murngin
tribe is contained in Warner (1). Kabcrry (1) discusses the place
of women in Australian culture, and gives incidentally an
excellent impression of life among certain Kimberley tribes.
Spencer and Gillen ( 1 ) is a classic description of the Aranda, the
best known of Australian tribes, but the shorter account in
Murdock (1) should prove adequate. A valuable description of
the place of mythology in Aranda culture is given in Strehlow (1).
Specialist articles on various phases of Australian culture, too
numerous for citation, are to be found in the journal Oceania ,
which also deals with Melanesian and Polynesian communities.
The preceding material on the Karadjeri tribe is taken from
articles in this journal by the writer, especially Piddington
(1 and 2).
CHAPTER IV
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
/. Social Structure in Primitive Society
By social organization (or social structure) is meant the division
of society into social groups, based upon conventionally stand-
ardized social relations between the individuals concerned. In
civilized society, families, clubs, trade unions, religious sects,
political parties and nations are examples of different kinds of
social groups. It will be noticed that these differ according to
whether, or to what extent, membership is obligatory or voluntary .
A man cannot change his membership of the family into which
he is born or adopted. There are numerous restrictions on changes
of nationality. And in totalitarian countries there is no choice in
regard to membership of political parties. On the other hand, a
man is free to belong to any club, sporting association or recrea-
tional group, or alternatively not to belong to any. In modern
democratic countries most social groups are of the voluntary type,
and here we find the most striking contrast with primitive cultures
in which the individual’s place in the social structure is deter-
mined, in general, by such factors as kinship, locality and heredit-
ary social class which cannot be changed except by certain special
social mechanisms which occasionally occur.
Certain types of social grouping are widespread in primitive
society, though they do not all occur everywhere, for the social
structure of primitive society not only differs considerably from
our own, but also varies from one primitive community to
another. The most important types of social groups are those
founded on:
1. Sex.
2. Age.
3. Kinship.
4. Locality.
5. Social status.
6. Political power.
7. Occupation.
I°7
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
/o8
8. Magico-religious functions.
9. Totemism.
10. Voluntary association.
Of these types of social grouping, those founded on kinship and
locality are not only much more important in primitive society
than among ourselves, but are more difficult for the European to
understand, because they are based on different rules and
customs in regard to, for example, marriage and descent. A
number of technical terms are employed in social anthropology
to define various primitive types of social grouping and the
various prescribed or customary relationships between groups
DENNIS
ROBINSON
(F.F.SIS.H.)
Dorothy
* Brown
JOHN
BROWN 4
Mary
" Smith
RICHARD
SMITH !
S- ^ cra
f Thomson
I (father’s mother’s
I brother’s wife)
1
DOUGLAS
ROBINSON
Freda
Robinson
1
Rose ALBERT
Johnson “ BROWN
(mother) (FATHER)
Roma
Brown *
DAVID
! PATERSON
WILLIAM
SMITH
' 1 1
Margaret Joan
Smith Smith
r
L_
Barbara
Todd =
KEN
= BROWN
(EGO)
Muriel
Brown
ARTHUR
* GRANT
(SISTER’S
HUSBAND)
Jean
Ford *
(f.SIS.
son’s
w.)
NORMAN
‘ PATERSON
Mabel
KEITH
: BLAIR
1 —
1 1
l 1
?-</ ?-</
Fig. 3. — Hypothetical English Genealogy (Patrilineal Descent)
and individuals, while certain ordinary English words are given a
specialized meaning. In addition, certain conventional forms,
which might be described as the orthography of kinship , are em-
ployed (though by no means consistently) in representing gene-
alogies 1 and describing kinship systems.
These may be illustrated by reference to the hypothetical English
genealogy 2 given in Fig. 3. The following points should be noted :
1 The collection of genealogies is now the recognized basis of the study of primitive
systems of kinship terminology. Some early ethnographers followed the procedure of
asking an informant in some form of lingua franca, or through an interpreter, such
questions as: “What do you call your mother’s brother?” Because of the complexities
of the classificatory system which will be described in Section (4), this led to endless
confusion and misunderstanding. The modern method is to write down the names of
relatives first, and then ask what kinship terms are applied to them. This procedure,
known as the genealogical method \ was first introduced by Rivers in his study of the
Todas.
2 The names in this genealogy and in Fig. 5 are entirely fictitious, having been
decided by juxtaposing Christian names and surnames selected at random from two
separate lists.
SOCIAL STRUCTURE IN PRIMITIVE SOCIETY 109
(a) Conventional symbols for males and females (<$ = male,
9 = female, or A = male, O = female), for marriage
(=) and for descent ( | or p^).
(b) In writing either personal names or kinship terms, words
representing MALES should be written in CAPITALS , and
those representing females in small letters , an initial capital
being optional in the case of females. This seems unnecess-
ary in a European genealogy where Christian names
almost always define the sex of the individual, but the
situation is quite different when we come to primitive
languages. In a Karadjeri genealogy, for example, the
names Yuari and Yeni do not convey the necessary in-
formation unless we write them YUARI and Yeni (or
yeni). Similarly, it seems pedantic in English to write
FATHER and mother, but this usage immediately clarifies
the meaning of the corresponding Karadjeri terms,
TABULU and kurdaing.
(c) In genealogies it is useful to take one individual (called
EGO or ego) as a point of reference (KEN BROWN in
our genealogy) for the definition of kinship terms, which
have been given in a few cases — a larger number would be
superfluous in an English genealogy. Other particulars,
such as rank, place of residence, membership of a clan or
other social group, may be entered below the name of each
individual, according to the purpose for which the genea-
logy is being compiled.
id) In describing relationships or translating native kinship
terms, we should always define the relationship exactly.
Thus we should not use the term “brother-in-law” which
is equivocal, but either “wife’s brother” or “sister’s
husband”, as the case may be. This defines the relationship
precisely, as in the case of ARTHUR GRANT. The only
terms which should be employed are: FATHER, mother,
BROTHER, sister, SON, daughter, HUSBAND and
wife. To write out relationships in full in these terms is
often cumbrous (e.g. in the relationship of Vera Thomson),
so they are often abbreviated. They can all be represented
by their initial letter without confusion, except SON and
sister. These may be represented as “SON” and “sis”, as
in the cases of DENNIS ROBINSON and Jean Ford.
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
1 10
( e ) Symbols may be entered in genealogies when names are not
known, as in the case of EGO’S SON and daughter.
(/) The names of, or symbols for, deceased persons are indi-
cated in different ways by various writers, e.g, by writing
names in italics, by attaching an asterisk, or putting them
in square brackets. Probably the last of these is the most
satisfactory. For example we could tell from our genealogy
that EGO’s f.m.m. is deceased.
(, g ) Order of birth of brothers and sisters, and order of marriage
of spouses may be indicated by the order in which they
appear in a genealogy, reading from left to right. Thus we
know that Margaret Smith is older than Joan Smith and
that EGO’s F.M.F. was married to another woman (de-
ceased) before he married EGO’s f.m.m.Where this is not
practicable, order of birth or marriage may be indicated
by numerals in brackets under or after the names of the
individuals concerned.
(//) Generations in lines of descent are described with reference
to EGO by the following terms:
Second ascending .
First ascending
Contemporary or Ego’s
First descending
Second descending .
e.g. F.F.
e.g. F.
e.g. B.
e.g. SON.
e.g. SON’s SON.
( i ) Difficulties of space are frequently encountered in com-
piling genealogies. These are usually greater laterally than
vertically. It sometimes becomes necessary to compile
subsidiary genealogies, for example, in the case of several
brothers and sisters or when a man is or has been married
more than twice.
2. The Family , Marriage and Kinship
The basic and universal kinship grouping is the family (some-
times called the “individual” family to distinguish it from the
“extended” family to be described later). In ordinary usage we
are apt to employ the term “family” rather loosely, and with
different meanings, as when we speak of a family tree, the Royal
Family, or a family gathering. But in anthropology it refers to one
type of grouping only — a man, his wife and the children resulting
THE FAMILY, MARRIAGE AND KINSHIP hi
from the union or adopted into the family . 1 In the course of a
normal lifetime a person belongs to two individual families — that
in which he or she is a child (family of orientation ) and that in which
he or she is a parent (family of procreation ).
All kinship derives from the existence of one or more families.
People are said to be kin to each other when their relationship can
be demonstrated genealogically. Consanguineous kin are those
whose relationship, real or by adoption, can be demonstrated
genealogically by descent. This is what is commonly called
“blood relationship”, but this term is unsatisfactory, because
many primitive peoples do not think of kinship relationships in
biological terms and because it rules out adoption, which is very
common in some primitive societies. It is therefore better to
employ the more specialized term “consanguineous”. ALBERT
BROWN, NORMAN PATERSON and Freda Robinson are
consanguineous kinsfolk of EGO. Affinal kin are those whose
relationship, real or by adoption, can be demonstrated genea-
logically by marriage , or by marriage and descent, e.g. Barbara
Todd, DAVID PATERSON and ARTHUR GRANT.
The family exists in both monogamous and polygamous
societies. Monogamy is a form of marriage in which no man may
be married to more than one woman, and no woman to more
than one man, at any one time. Polygamy is of two kinds,
polygyny and polyandry. Polygyny is the system whereby a man
may have more than one wife at one time. Because of the approxi-
mate equality in numbers between the sexes , 2 it is clear that
polygyny can never be universal in any society. To take a hypo-
thetical and unreal example, if the sexes are equal in number and
half the men have two wives each, it is clear that the other half
must remain unmarried. For this reason polygyny is always
limited, either by legal, religious and customary rules or by
practical difficulties. Thus, there may be restrictions as to the
number of wives a man may have and the classes of men who
may be polygynists. The Mohammedan faith limits the number
of wives a man may have to four. In the Trobriand Islands only
chiefs may be polygynous, and because of the customary giving of
urigubu gifts by a man to his sister’s husband, this ensures ample
tribute, in the form of gifts based on kinship, for the chief. In
1 Certain atypical or aberrant forms of the family will be considered later.
2 Modified by differential birth and mortality rates and, in a few societies, by
infanticide.
1 12
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
other societies (for example among the Australian aborigines and
to a lesser extent among the Mende) polygyny is regulated by the
practice of men marrying at a very much later age than women.
This means that the older men are in general polygynous, while
young men remain unmarried for a considerable time. The
sexual restriction imposed by the latter custom is frequently to
some extent offset by tolerated extra-marital licence, whereby
youths are allowed from time to time to co-habit with the wives of
older men.
Even when polygyny is not restricted by custom, it is often so
de facto through the need for providing bride-price. This means
that only men who can command a certain amount of wealth
can be polygynous. The following figures given by Brown and
Hutt (i, p. 107) for 4,054 members of the Hehe tribe indicate the
incidence of polygyny in a society where the custom is wide-
spread and is not legally restricted to men of rank or wealth :
Unmarried men
Men with 1 wife
Men with 2 wives
Men with 3 wives
Men with 4 wives
Men with 5 wives
Men with 6 wives
Men with 7 wives
Men with 9 wives
,026, or 25*3 per cent.
,881, or 46*4 per cent.
838, or 20*7 per cent.
2 1 1, or 5*2 per cent.
62, or 1 *5 per cent.
24'
together, 0*9
Der cent.
Polyandry is the form of marriage in which a woman may have
more than one husband at any one time. 1 True polyandry is
extremely rare, and very little is known concerning polyandrous
societies. The best-known example of polyandry is found among
the Todas. Here a woman may be married to more than one man
at one time. If the husbands live together, she resides with them
and they share her sexual favours. If they live in different villages,
the wife usually lives with each for a month at time, though there
is considerable elasticity in the details of the arrangements.
We have said that the individual family exists in both mono-
gamous and polygamous societies. Under polygyny, two or more
families are linked by the fact that the same man is the father in
1 Two varieties of polyandry have been distinguished : the Tibetan , fraternal or
adelphic type, in which the husbands of the woman must be brothers, and the Nayar
(or Nair) type, in which there need not be any relationship between them. But in view
of the inadequacy of the ethnographic material, too much attention should not be paid
to this distinction. It is probable that many, if not all, alleged examples of fraternal
polyandry are in fact forms of cicisbeism (see below) .
THE FAMILY, MARRIAGE AND KINSHIP 113
each, a situation diagrammatically represented in Fig. 4 (i).
In polyandrous societies, we similarly find a number of in-
dividual families linked by the fact that the same woman is the
mother in each.
A problem will at once occur to the reader: in polygynous
societies the individual link between different mothers and their
respective children is obvious from the fact of parturition, but in
polyandrous communities, where the physiological father may be
unknown, how is paternity established ? The answer is that patern-
ity is a social rather than a physiological fact. 1 It is socially
established by legal or ceremonial observances. Thus, among
the Todas paternity is determined by performance of the “bow
Fig. 4. — The Family in Monogamous and Polygamous Societies
» Father, M — Mother, G = Children. In all these cases each triangle represents a distinct
individual family group, clearly recognized as such in the culture concerned.
and arrow” ceremony. When a polyandrous woman has been
pregnant for about seven months, she goes into the woods
accompanied by the man who is to be regarded as the father of
her child. He cuts a niche in a tree and places in it a lighted lamp.
The relatives of husband and wife assemble and participate in
various rites, which link the coming child, not only to its father
and mother, but also to their kinsfolk. The wife sits before the
tree and the husband gives her a specially prepared bow and
arrow, at the same time saying a special word, which is different
for each clan. The child is thus affiliated to the clan of its father.
The woman raises the bow and arrow to her forehead and gazes
1 The same is actually true of maternity (e.g. in cases of adoption), but this need
not detain us here.
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
1 14
at the lamp for some time. The relatives then return to the village
for food, leaving the husband and wife to cook and share a meal
in the woods. While some of the symbolism of this ceremony is
not clear, we can discern how it singles out one husband (who is
not necessarily the physiological father) who will assume the
relationship of paternity to the child. Moreover, all subsequent
children are regarded as those of this man until another husband
performs the bow and arrow ceremony. This establishes the
second husband’s paternity for subsequent children until the
ceremony is again performed by another man, and so on. Thus
the mother becomes the centre of two or more individual families,
each having its own distinct father whose paternity has been
established by the bow and arrow ceremony (Fig. 4 c).
It should be noted that since polygyny is infinitely the more
common form of polygamy, the terms “polygamous” and “poly-
gamy” are commonly used to mean “polygynous” and “polygyny”.
There is no evidence for the existence of what has been called
“group marriage”, under which a group of men are said to be
married to a group of women. The suggestion that such a type of
marriage exists, or ever existed, probably arises from a confusion
between marriage on the one hand and forms of tolerated extra-
marital sexual relations, which occur in many primitive societies,
on the other. Such relations may be casual and temporary or may
be more or less institutionalized and permanent. In this case they
arc termed concubinage and cicisbeism , the latter term denoting
toleration of an extra-marital liaison of a married woman. 1
Concubinage, as it is known in civilized societies, is rarely found
among primitive peoples, where women are usually married at a
fairly early age. Its place is taken by polygyny, which differs from
it in the greater permanence of the union, the continuous living
together of the man and the woman concerned and the greater
social status of the respective women and their children. But the
difference is a relative one. In polygynous societies there are often
marked differences between the status and privileges of co-wives
and their children, and there are borderline cases which might be
regarded either as polygyny or concubinage.
Cicisbeism is fairly common, and often forms part of the obliga-
tions of kinship, hospitality or bond-friendship. We have already
noted its occurrence among the Eskimo. Similarly in Australia,
men frequently lend their wives to kinsmen (married or un-
1 From the Italian word cicisbeo , the recognized lover of a married woman.
THE FAMILY, MARRIAGE AND KINSHIP 115
married) cither casually or at special tribal gatherings, such as
the famous pirrauru ceremony of the Dieri tribe . 1 Such wife-lend-
ing among the aborigines is often not only permissive but obliga-
tory — thus a man may force his wife, even against her will, to
discharge her extra-marital obligations.
Cicisbeism was associated with bond friendship in Tahiti. Two
men entered into a special relationship of pledged friendship,
known as tayo , one of the obligations of which was that a man’s
wife was at the disposal of his tayo . Similar privileges were also
extended to visitors, and one early European traveller who had
been adopted as tayo by a high chief found himself in a difficult
situation because he did not avail himself of the sexual privileges
involved. This illustrates clearly the socially recognized and
obligatory character of the relationship. Apart from the relation-
ship of tayo and the obligations of hospitality, the Tahitians ex-
pected their wives to remain faithful.
While the motives dominant in the above examples are social
or ceremonial, cicisbeism is often allowed for various practical
reasons. Thus, among the Mende, where men tend to be much
older than their wives, women often find it impossible to have
children by their own husbands. In polygynous Mende house-
holds the latter sometimes allow their sons to have access to their
wives, though no son would be allowed to do this with his own
mother. Again, in the Marquesas, a chief might have in his
retinue an official known as his “fire-maker”, who, in addition to
performing services for the chief, was, in the latter’s absence, the
official guardian of his wife’s virtue. As a reward he was allowed
the enjoyment of that which he had to protect, thus preventing
promiscuous infidelity.
Several examples of cicisbeism have been given, not because it
is particularly important sociologically, but because it is so often
confused with polyandry, which can only be said to exist when a
woman is bound by the bond of marriage to more than one man,
paternity of her respective children being divided between them.
3. Descent , Succession , Inheritance and Residence
Three important features of primitive kinship systems are the
rules governing descent, succession and inheritance.
1 This rite was previously regarded as a survival of “group marriage”, but the term
“marriage” is quite inapplicable to such a relationship, which is essentially temporary
in character.
u6
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
The rules of descent are those which regulate the birthright
membership of a social group, though such membership may also
be acquired, in special cases, by adoption. Descent may be traced
through either the father or the mother. In the former case des-
cent is said to be patrilineal. This is easy to understand, because
our own society is predominantly patrilineal. A child takes its
surname (and in Scotland its membership of a clan) from its
father, and members of the aristocracy take their titles, not from
their mothers, but from their fathers. But this emphasis is quite
Dorothy
Brown
1
r
JOHN _ Mary
BROWN
Smith
RICHARD
SMITH
KEN
JOHNSON
I
Rose _ ALBERT
Johnson J SMITH
1
Muriel _ ARTHUR
Johnson GRANT
“1
Roma _ DAVID
Smith T PATERSON
I
Jean _ NORMAN
Ford SMITH
1
Mabel
Smith
Fig. 5. — Hypothetical Genealogy illustrating Matrilineal Descent of Surname
arbitrary. Every child has two parents. It would be quite as
feasible to regard the mother as the relevant parent for purposes of
descent, and many primitive peoples in fact do so. In these
societies descent is said to be matrilineal, since it is traced through
the mother and not through the father.
In view of the difficulty which is experienced by students reared
in a patrilineal society in understanding the principles of matri-
liny, let us refer to another entirely hypothetical genealogy (Fig.
5) which we may contrast with the patrilineal one previously
discussed. We assume that our own society might be matrilineal,
and that descent of the surname would follow the same principles
as does that of membership of a social group, such as a clan, in a
matrilineal primitive society. 1 In this case, when JOHN BROWN
1 The assumed analogy between surname in our own community and clan member-
ship in primitive society breaks down on one point which is worth mentioning. In our
society a woman assumes her husband’s name at marriage, and does not normally
relinquish it even after widowhood or divorce. In primitive society a woman never,
or only very rarely, becomes a member of her husband’s clan or he of hers, whether
descent be patrilineal or matrilineal.
DESCENT, SUCCESSION AND INHERITANCE 117
marries Mary Smith, their children take their name from their
mother, and this name is transmitted through the female offspring
only.
The vast majority of primitive kinship systems are either
patrilineal or matrilineal. In both cases descent is said to be
unilateral, since only one parent is regarded as relevant for pur-
poses of descent. But in certain kinship groups descent is traced
through both parents. Such groups are said to be bilateral. The
most obvious example of this is the family, the child’s membership
of which depends upon its relationship to both its parents
and upon the bond of marriage existing between them —
thus, an illegitimate child is not a member of a family in the
anthropological sense. But in addition to the family, a few
primitive communities have wider bilateral groups, such as the
kindred.
In addition, there are atypical forms of descent, such as the
ambilateral Maori hapu , in which descent may be traced either
through the father or through the mother (but not both), and
double unilateral descent, in which two sets of groups, one patrilineal
and the other matrilineal, co-exist in the same society. These
methods of reckoning descent will be discussed later.
In older anthropological works the terms “patriarchal”, and
“matriarchal”, or “father-right” and “mother-right”, are some-
times used to correspond with “patrilineal” and “matrilineal”.
But these terms are best avoided, since they may convey mislead-
ing implications about the power and status of women in matri-
lineal communities.
This brings us to the rules of succession, which are those
regulating the transmission of office or rank. Succession may be
patrilineal or matrilineal. In the latter case succession to a male
title passes from a man to some other matrilineal kinsman, usually
his sister’s son. It is important to stress this because of the mis-
leading implications of the term “matriarchal” mentioned above.
In primitive society generally women play a negligible part in
political affairs, and even when they do exert a significant in-
fluence, the actual administration of tribal affairs is mainly
carried out by men, as we have seen among the Iroquois, who were
once regarded as the classic example of the matriarchate. Matri-
lineal succession, in fact, means that title or office is transmitted
from males to males through females. In both patrilineal and matri-
lineal systems, succession to rank or office may pass first to a man’s
n8 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
younger brothers, reverting later to a younger man in the senior
line of descent . 1
The real difference between patrilineal and matrilineal suc-
cession is that in the former a patrilineal kinsman must succeed
and in the latter a matrilineal one. In both cases there is usually a
certain amount of flexibility in regard to the individual kinsman
who actually succeeds. An incompetent, immature or unpopular
heir may be passed over in favour of one who is regarded as more
suitable — the rules of succession are thus not rigid. Sometimes the
chief may himself play a part, before his death, in nominating his
heir, and occasionally there are elective mechanisms whereby a
suitable successor is chosen from among several alternative aristo-
cratic houses.
It should be noted that in some communities rank is not subject
to any rules of succession, but is due, for instance, to wealth. This
may result in the appearance of patrilineal or matrilineal succession
owing to the transmission of property by patrilineal or matrilineal
inheritance.
The rules of inheritance are those which regulate the trans-
mission of property from one generation to the next. As with
succession, it may be patrilineal or matrilineal, but these princi-
ples are sometimes modified by the wishes of the original owner,
who may have powers of testamentary disposition.
The rules governing distribution between brothers on the death
of their father or mother’s brother arc variable. In some com-
munities a more or less equal division is made, but in others the
rule of primogeniture prevails. In a few communities, for example
among the Kazaks, the rule of ultimogeniture gives preference to
younger sons, but this usually happens when provision has been
made for their older brothers during the lifetime of the original
owner. For it is important to stress the fact that inheritance, as
defined above, is something much wider than the legal rules
governing the disposal of property at death. It is the whole
mechanism whereby the material wealth of the community is
passed on from one generation to the next. For example, a man
may hand over some of his property to his heir during his life-
1 In considering matters of kinship and particularly of succession, it is important
to distinguish between age and seniority. We should never confuse the term “senior”
with “elder” or “junior” with “younger”. “Elder” and “younger” refer to relative
age. “Senior” and “junior” refer to lines of descent, irrespective of the relative ages of
the persons concerned. Thus, in a patrilineal society if a man is a chief, his son is
junior to his younger brother’s son, even though the latter may be older in years.
DESCENT, SUCCESSION AND INHERITANCE 119
time, or may even dispose of it in a manner contrary to the pre-
vailing rules of inheritance. Thus, in the matrilineal Trobriand
Islands a man may hand over certain wealth and magical spells
(which may be regarded as a form of wealth in this society) to his
son, instead of leaving them to be inherited by his sister’s son after
his death.
Since primitive communities lack, for the most part, any
generalized form of wealth such as money, material possessions
usually appertain to one sex or to the other, for example, clothing
and certain forms of ornament. Again, because of the division of
labour between the sexes, the same is generally true of objects of
utility, for example, household utensils, tools, weapons, canoes
and so on. The usual custom is for men’s property to be handed
on in the patrilineal or matrilineal line as the case may be, while
that of a woman normally passes to her daughter or sometimes
her sister. But there are specific exceptions to this — for example,
among the Aranda a woman’s tjurunga (a kind of sacred object) is
inherited by her younger brother, never by her daughter. In
regard to certain personal possessions in some primitive com-
munities, the problem of inheritance does not arise, property
being either destroyed at death or buried with the dead owner.
The rules of inheritance in regard to land are extremely variable
and complex. Some examples will be given in Chapter VIII,
since they cannot be understood apart from the whole system of
land tenure existing in the community concerned.
As with succession, the student must guard against a too rigid
impression of the rules of inheritance, which is only too easily
gained from some of the earlier field records which usually sought
to give cut-and-dried formulations of these rules. There is usually
a tendency for either patriliny or matriliny to be emphasized, and
for customary rules to determine distribution of property between
males and females, elder and younger, and so on. But such rules
are constantly modified by particular considerations, such as the
wishes of the owner or of the community and the availability of an
heir of the appropriate age, sex and character. Thus, sometimes a
woman may inherit if there is no male heir, or someone, male or
female, not in the direct line of descent may temporarily hold
property in trust until an immature heir comes of age. The
personal situation of possible heirs may also be taken into con-
sideration so that hardship is normally avoided.
Among the rules connected with kinship in primitive society
8.A.I — IO
120
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
are those governing residence, particularly residence after
marriage, for it is rare in primitive society to find a young married
couple “setting up house” for themselves far from the homes of
cither of them Usually one spouse moves to the village (or other
local group) of the other, often into his or her household. When it
is customary for the wife to move and join her husband’s group,
marriage is said to be patrilocal. When the husband moves to
join his wife’s group, marriage is said to be matrilocal . 1 Occasion-
ally matrilocal marriage is a temporary arrangement. Among the
Bemba a man goes to live with his wife’s family for a period after
marriage, returning subsequently with his wife to his own village.
During the period of matrilocal marriage he works for the family
of his wife, this service taking the place of the lobola payment
made in other Bantu tribes.
Patrilocal marriage is usually correlated with patrilineal
descent and matrilocal marriage with matrilineal descent, but
there are a few exceptions to this. In the matrilineal Trobriand
Islands marriage is patrilocal. A woman goes at marriage to live
permanently in the village of her husband, but her sons are
expected to return at maturity to the village from which she
originally came, that is, to the village of their mother’s brother.
As regards the residence of children, these usually live, as we
would expect, with their parents until male or female children
move off at marriage under the principles of matrilocal or patri-
local residence respectively. But there are exceptions to the
general practice of family residence for children. Among some
primitive peoples, a woman returns to her own family for her
confinement, and in others it is customary for children to be sent
to live with their grandparents for various periods. Again, in
Tikopia a child may sometimes be sent away from its parents to
live more or less permanently in the household of a member of its
kano a pailo (p. 150). This is not true adoption, since the child
retains its own family titles and rights to inheritance. In general,
the function of such practices is to emphasize the wider kinship
bonds of the child in contradistinction to those of the individual
family. We shall see later how important are these wider bonds in
primitive society, a feature which contrasts most sharply with our
own emphasis on the more limited bonds of the individual family.
This is reflected in the linguistic usages connected with kinship
1 The terms virilocal and uxorilocal are sometimes used as equivalent to patrilocal
and matrilocal respectively.
DESCENT, SUCCESSION AND INHERITANCE
121
122 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
terminology, which are extraordinarily elaborate in many
primitive societies.
4. Classijicatory Terminology and the Language of Kinship
The terms used by primitive peoples to denote kinship relation-
ships differ from our own in the predominance of classificatory
terms as opposed to descriptive terms. Classificatory terms arc
those which refer to more than one type of relationship, for
example, “aunt”, “uncle”, “grandfather”, “cousin” in our own
system. Descriptive terms are those which refer to one type of re-
lationship only, for example, “father”, “mother”, “brother”. In
the classificatory system of kinship terminology, such terms as
those just mentioned are also applied to a number of different
kinds of relationship, for example, a man may use the term
“father” to denote not only his own father but also his father’s
brothers, his father’s father’s sons and so on — the actual grouping
varies from one community to another. The most general (though
by no means the only) principle underlying most classificatory
systems is the equivalence of brothers and of sisters for purposes
of terminology. This means that, for example, if a man uses a
certain term towards a particular individual, he employs the
same term for the brothers of that individual. Thus, a man may
have many relatives whom he calls “father”, the number depend-
ing on the consistency with which the classificatory principle is
applied in the community concerned.
In order to give the reader some idea of the appearance of a
classificatory system of kinship terminology, a few of the kinship
terms of the Karadjeri are shown in Fig. 6. Here it will be seen
that a man uses the term TABULU to refer, not only to his
FATHER, but also to his FATHER’S BROTHER. The same
principle applies to the term KAMI in the second ascending
generation. FATHER’S FATHER’S BROTHER’S SON is
therefore another TABULU, and his sons are addressed by the
term for BROTHER. In the Karadjeri kinship system this logical
process ramifies out through the whole genealogy of an individual.
This means that two individuals can define their classificatory
relationship to each other, even if no genealogical relationship
between them can be traced, provided that the relationship of
both of them to a third party is known. Thus if A addresses B as
KAMI and B addresses C as MAMA, then A knows that he must
address C as KAMI also. In this respect Karadjeri kinship is, like
kami KAMI =f jambardu JAMBARDU =f kami KAMI =? kabai YAGU
(KALUJI*) (kabali 1 ) T KAGA T (yagu)
riG. 7. — Karadjeri Kinship Terms — Male Speaking
1 Terms peculiar to the coastal dialect
* Classificatory term only
’ Elder BROTHER is MAMA, younger BROTHER is BABALA
124 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
all Australian systems, extraordinarily logical and consistent.
This usage means that theoretically every Australian aborigine is
related to every other, though of course relationships are normally
traced only with members of an individual’s own local group and
neighbouring ones, or groups with which he has special relation-
ships, for example, by marriage.
The tracing of such relationships in Australian society is of
vital importance in actual life, since classificatory kinship imposes
certain patterns of behaviour between individuals. For example, a
Karadjeri man must adopt the avoidance relationship (p. 136)
towards his wife’s mother; similarly, any man who is called KAGA
and is married to a dalu is one from whom EGO may obtain a
wife. Thus, when a stranger arrives in a camp, the first thing
which must be done is to work out his classificatory relationships to
its members, so that he knows how to behave towards them and
they towards him.
A fuller presentation of Karadjeri kinship terms is given in
Fig. 7, to which reference will be mad*' later. 1 It must be emphas-
ized that this is only one of the many classificatory systems which
exist throughout the world. As has been mentioned, Australian
kinship systems are extraordinarily elaborate, logical and far-
reaching in their definition of classificatory relationships. They
exemplify in a striking way certain principles which are opera-
tive, though usually to a lesser extent, in classificatory systems
generally. But the reader must not infer that the diagram pre-
sented is by any means typical of classificatory systems. To guard
against this impression, some of the kinship terms used in Tikopia 2
are given in Fig. 8.
The use of classificatory terminology does not mean that natives
cannot distinguish between different kin who are called by the
same term, or that all are treated alike. As regards the distinction
between different relatives to whom the same classificatory term
is applied, the context in which a term is used generally makes
its individual reference clear. Where this is not the case, all
classificatory* systems have certain indices of identification,
1 Specialists in Australian kinship will at once sec that this figure is over-simplified
and artificial. It postulates a series of marriages between men and their matrilateral
cross-cousins. In actual fact, this form of marriage is not universal even among the
Inland Karadjeri, while the coastal section of the tribe actually prohibit marriage
with a man’s own mother’s brother’s daughter.
* This again is an over-simplified presentation of the facts. For a more detailed
treatment of the terms, and their implications in native life, the reader should refer
to the original field-record (Firth, 8, chapter VII).
THE LANGUAGE OF KINSHIP
125
though the incidence of these varies from one community to
another, while within the same community different indices are
employed at different times. Classificatory kinsfolk may be dis-
tinguished from each other by the following indices:
(a) The index of circumlocution or of specification, that is, by
describing the individual concerned by characteristics other
than his kinship relationship to the speaker, for example, by
mentioning the clan or local group to which he belongs.
Moreover, most classificatory systems have supplementary
terms corresponding to “near”, “distant” and “own”, by
which the meaning of classificatory terms can be clarified.
(b) The nominal index, which consists of adding the personal
name to the kinship term, just as we distinguish between
classificatory relatives in the case of uncles and aunts.
Though this is probably the most obvious index to employ,
it is rare in some communities owing to certain taboos on
the use of personal names.
(c) The ocular index, that is, when various classificatory rela-
tives of the same relationship are present, by looking at the
individual concerned.
(d) The manual index — pointing at the relative indicated,
particularly common among young children.
(e) The tonal index. Malinowski records differences in emo-
tional tone in the utterance of classificatory kinship terms,
according to whether the relationship is close or distant,
but other observers have failed to detect such differences.
Their occurrence probably depends, not so much on the
need for precision as on the kind of situation in which a
kinship term is uttered, for example, whether it is one of
day-to-day practical life or one of emotional tension.
Natives, then, are perfectly capable of distinguishing between
different individuals described by the same classificatory term.
Such distinctions, moreover, apply to conduct as well as ter-
minology. Behaviour towards more distant classificatory kin is
apt to be a pale reflection of that towards those who are more
closely related. Common residence has an important effect upon
the way in which patterns of kinship behaviour are observed.
Thus, when classificatory kinsmen live close to each other, they
normally meet more frequently than those who are not neigh-
bours. Consequently, they have more opportunities of observing
126
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
their mutual obligations, such as the giving of presents, and are
usually more inclined to do so than when the obligatory kinship
bonds are not reinforced by frequent personal contacts.
Classificatory usage may even be extended beyond the point to
which genealogical relationships can be traced, as we have seen
to be the case in Australia. It should be noted that such usages
do not correspond strictly with the definition of kinship given in
Section 2. This is even more marked when the use of classificatory
terms depends upon membership of a group irrespective of
genealogical connection. Thus, in some primitive societies a man
may call other men of his clan “brother”, though he cannot trace
relationship to them. Again, in Wogeo a man uses the term
corresponding to “mother” to apply to the wives of all his fellow-
clansmen. Such usages are best described as fictional kinship.
We have described the general features of the classificatory
system , 1 not only because of its prevalence in primitive society,
but because it has in the past led to more misunderstandings and
misinterpretations in anthropological theory than any other
feature of primitive culture.
Some primitive kinship systems have two terms for a single type
of relationship — a term of reference and a term of address. A
term of reference is used when speaking of a relative, and a
term of address w r hen speaking to them. Some of our terms, for
example, “mother”, are used in both ways; but such terms as
“mother-in-law”, “son”, “daughter” arc not used as terms of
address. In some primitive societies there are two different sets
of terms, one of address and the other of reference. Thus in
Tikopia, for which we have given the terms of reference, a man
refers to his father as TAMANA when speaking to a third person,
but addresses him as PA. A similar distinction is observed in the
case of certain other relatives, though for some (for example,
TUATINA = MOTHER’S BROTHER) the same term is used
in both ways. In other kinship systems there is no distinction
between the two types of term. For example, a Karadjeri man
speaks of his father as “ nyundu TABULU”, “my father”, and also
uses the term TABULU in addressing him.
1 In view of the definitions of classificatory and descriptive terms given above, it
must be recognized that the use of the term, “classificatory system ”, is generally a loose
one indicating a general tendency rather than absolute consistency, Thus, though the
Karadjeri system is entirely classificatory, the terms of reference in Tikopia include
two descriptive ones. Again, our own system is generally called descriptive because of
the relatively large number of descriptive terms in it. But, as we have seen, it also
includes classificatory terms.
THE LANGUAGE OF KINSHIP 127
When the same kinship term is used by two relatives in speaking
of or to each other, the term is said to be reciprocal ; for example,
when there is a single term for FATHER’S FATHER and
SON’S SON. Our own term “brother” is a reciprocal one, but
“uncle” is not.
Many systems of kinship terminology have separate terms for a
single relationship according to whether the relation is older or
younger than the speaker; for example, there may be one term
for “cider brother” and another for “younger brother”, as among
the Karadjeri.
In some primitive kinship systems there is a practice whereby,
when a man becomes a father, he is habitually referred to and
addressed as “Father of X”, “X” being the name of the infant.
Similarly, the mother may be called “Mother of X”. This custom
is known as teknonymy.
Certain technical terms are useful in referring to groups of
relationships which are not easily described in English kinship
terminology. The term sibling refers to children of the same
mother and father irrespective of sex, that is, it covers both
brothers and sisters. One application of this term is found in
Tikopia and other Oceanic societies, where, instead of words
corresponding to “brother” and “sister”, there are terms which
can only be rendered “sibling of the same sex” and “sibling of the
opposite sex”. Thus, in Tikopia terms for siblings can be translated
into English only by reference to the sex of the speaker, as follows :
Brother (man speaking) : TAINA
Brother (woman speaking) : KAVE
Sister (man speaking) : Kave
Sister (woman speaking) : Taina
In New Guinea this Oceanic usage has been adopted in the
vernacular (Pidgin English) in which natives communicate with
Europeans, and resulting misunderstandings are frequent. The
European is naturally surprised when a woman refers to another
woman as her “barata”, a corruption of “brother”. In Pidgin
English, of course, “barata” means “sibling of the same sex”.
Special terms are employed in anthropology for different kinds
of cousin. Gross-cousins are two persons so related that the
mother of the one is sister to the father of the other, that is, an
individual’s mother’s brother’s children and father’s sister’s
children. In other words, they are cousins related through parents
128 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
who are siblings of different sexes. It should be noted that cross-
cousins can never be members of the same clan, whether descent
in the clan is patrilineal or matrilineal. Parallel-cousins are two
persons so related that the father of one is brother to the father of
the other, or that the mother of one is sister to the mother of the
other, that is, an individual’s father’s brother’s children and
mother’s sister’s children. In other words, they are cousins related
through parents of the same sex. The term ortho-cousin is some-
times used for parallel-cousins who belong to the same clan, that
is, they are the children of two brothers when descent is patri-
lineal and of two sisters when descent is matrilineal. These
terminological usages are diagrammatically represented in Fig. 9.
f 1 1 I 1 1
,T,
,T,
T
T
,T,
6 9
<f 9
EGO
1 \
a 9
<? 9
C.C.
P.C.
P.O.C.
P.C.
M.O.C.
C.C.
Fig. 9. — Types of Cousin
C.C. *= Cross-Cousins
P.C. = Parallel -Cousins
P.O.C. = Ortho-Cousins under Patrilineal Descent
M.O.C. = Ortho-Cousins under Matrilineal Descent
5. The Rights , Obligations and Restrictions of Kinship
We have described in the last section some of the elaborations
of primitive kinship terminology, which are apt to strike the
European as unnecessarily complex. But there is a positive social
reason for their complexity. In all human societies the kinship
bonds of the family satisfy various needs of individuals — of men
and women for socially approved sexual association and of their
offspring for care during infancy. But human beings living in
society have many other needs — for education, for assistance of a
practical kind in economic tasks which they cannot undertake
individually, and for care in time of illness or in old age. Further-
more, the family cannot fully serve its functions if one of the
parents should become an invalid or die, and these functions
must be, partially at least, taken over by other social agencies. In
our own society there are institutions which serve functions to
which the family is inadequate, or meet critical situations such as
RIGHTS, OBLIGATIONS AND RESTRICTIONS 129
prolonged illness or death. Examples of such institutions are
orphanages, schools, hospitals, specialized occupational groups
(farmers, builders, manufacturers and so on), insurance companies
or schemes of public insurance and homes for the aged.
In general, none of these specialized institutions exist in primi-
tive society, their functions being served by systems of kinship.
Orphans are adopted, the old and sick are cared for, and widows
(if they do not remarry) are provided with a home by kinsfolk.
A young man in Bantu society owns no cattle, and if he wishes to
provide lobola must obtain the necessary beasts from his father
and other kinsfolk, a service which he must in turn render to his
own son at a later date. Under primitive conditions a man who
wishes to build a house, a task too heavy to undertake alone,
instead of employing professional builders, summons his kinsfolk
to his assistance, and they in turn have similar claims upon his
services. This is the explanation of the complexity of primitive
kinship and of the classificatory system of terminology. For
example, a man calls his mother’s sister “mother” because she is a
natural foster-mother if his own mother should die, and if the
latter should have no sisters, the classificatory system equips him
with a whole cadre of “mothers”. The same applies to other kin.
Thus, the mother’s brother is usually a vitally important relative,
owing all sorts of obligations to his sister’s son, not only in
matrilineal but also in patrilineal societies. If a man’s mother has
no brother, the classificatory system makes available other more
remote kinsfolk who arc expected to undertake his duties. To
adopt a metaphor from the theatre, classificatory kin are the
understudies of real kin.
But this is not the whole explanation of classificatory kinship.
Under primitive conditions, as we shall see, groups of kinsfolk
normally live together in such entities as the extended family.
This means that a child’s household includes other relatives, such
as his father’s brothers, mother’s sisters or father’s brothers’ wives.
These naturally have much more to do with him, and render
more services to him, than the corresponding relatives in our own
society. It is therefore appropriate that they should be designated
by kinship terms which reflect patterns of behaviour. Thus, a boy
must treat his father’s brothers with respect as he does his own
father, while an infant normally receives from its classificatory
mothers, as from its own mother, all sorts of attentions, and
occasionally even such intimate services as suckling.
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
ISO
The general use of classificatory terms, and to a large extent
their differential applications in particular societies, can be
understood if we realize that they reflect behaviour patterns
similar to those existing in the primary kinship relationship, for
example, between a woman and her own children. But we must
again emphasize the fact that the primary relationship is always
distinguished, and that the styles of classificatory behaviour
patterned upon it become less significant and clear-cut as the
genealogical distance increases. Thus, a boy treats his father and
his father’s brothers with respect, but a breach of etiquette to-
wards the latter may be less severely regarded than an act of dis-
respect towards his own father. Finally, when we proceed out-
wards in the genealogy to very remote “fathers”, the obligation
ceases to be one of filial piety and becomes a mere formality,
particularly where there is little disparity in age between the
parties concerned.
The differences based on genealogical proximity are qualitative
as well as quantitative. A man may expect constant care and
solicitude from his own mother’s brother, while the obligations of
remoter kin of the same kind may be limited to ceremonial
observances, such as attendance at his initiation or marriage.
It will help to clarify these aspects of the classificatory system
if we reflect that we ourselves use certain kinship terms for pur-
poses other than defining genealogical relationship, for example,
the use of the term “sister” in hospitals or “brother” between
judges. A good example is the practice of using the term “father”
for a priest in the Roman Catholic religion, where other kinship
terms are likewise employed in religious orders, as they are in
other religious faiths in various contexts. Archaic kinship terms
are, or have been, employed in a similar way — for example,
“sire” and “matron”. Colloquial speech and slang provide other
examples, as when a man seeks to impress his authority on a
strange boy by calling him “son” or “sonny”, or in the slang
description of the pawnbroker as “uncle”, reminiscent of the
financial and other benefits which one expects from this relative
during childhood. In all these usages, some element of the pri-
mary kinship relationship, whether it be partial social identity
(“brother”), authority or dependence (or both reciprocally, as
in the case of “Our Father”), or financial inadequacy, is stressed
in a relationship of a non-genealogical kind. The same sort of
principle underlies classificatory usage in primitive society though
RIGHTS, OBLIGATIONS AND RESTRICTIONS 13 1
here it is more extensively and systematically applied, and is
infinitely more important in determining human behaviour.
This enables us to understand why Malinowski has based his
explanation of the classificatory system on what he calls the
metaphorical extension of kinship terms. These are first learned by
the child in the immediate circle of relatives among whom it is
born and spends its infancy, in the initial situation of kinship . They
are subsequently extended and redefined so as to embrace a very
much wider circle of kinsfolk, whose significance will be apparent
from what was said at the beginning of this section.
We are now in a position to appreciate the importance, in
primitive society, of the rights and obligations of kinship, though
the precise nature and incidence of these vary enormously from
one primitive society to another. Among the culturally pre-
scribed obligations of kinship are : care and assistance in times of
distress or difficulty; respectful or deferential behaviour; the
giving of gifts; support in quarrels; day-to-day co-operation, and
participation in ceremonial connected with such events as births,
initiations, marriages and deaths. In addition there are certain
special usages, particularly connected with marriage and the
family. We shall constantly meet examples of the rights and
obligations of kinship in subsequent chapters, since kinship per-
vades every aspect of native life.
The obligations of kinship include rules of a negative order,
which prohibit certain types of behaviour between specific kin.
Among these the most important and widespread are the rules
prohibiting incest, that is, sexual relations between near kin.
All primitive kinship systems have such rules in some form or
other, though their nature and incidence vary from one com-
munity to another. Universally sexual relations between members
of the individual family (except husband and wife) are pro-
hibited. Exceptions are found in ancient Egypt, Hawaii and
among the Incas of Peru, where brother-sister marriages occurred,
but only in the case of the ruling families . These isolated and limited
exceptions contrast with the overwhelming majority of human
communities in which the rules of law, morals and religion insist
upon a rigid exclusion of sexual relationships — with the exception
of that between husband and wife — from the family.
The conception of incest, however, goes beyond the individual
family. Most primitive societies extend it to other kinsfolk, often
to relatives whom we should not regard as “near” kin. It may
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
i3 2
even apply to all members of an individual’s group (for example, a
clan) irrespective of genealogical relationship. This, of course,
precludes marriage within the group, which is said to be
exogamous and the rule is termed exogamy. The opposite rule
is endogamy, whereby a man must marry within his own social
group (for example, caste), which is then termed endogamous.
Exogamous and endogamous groups may co-exist in the same
society.
Two points must be emphasized in order to clarify the meaning
of the terms mentioned in the preceding paragraphs. In the first
place the term “incest” refers primarily to sexual association
(though the prohibition of this automatically rules out marriage
also) in the case of individuals between whom a particular genea-
logical relationship exists. Exogamy refers primarily to marriage
between individuals on the basis of their membership of a social
group, irrespective of genealogical connection. Sexual relations
between such individuals are normally prohibited or socially dis-
approved, though not so severely as in the case of incest. Such
relations within the clan are described as clan incest . In the second
place the rules both of exogamy and endogamy are prescriptive
and proscriptive, never permissive. It is therefore quite incorrect
to say that a certain group is endogamous if we merely mean that
marriages within the group are permitted. We can only use the
term if such marriages are obligatory. Similarly exogamy can
only refer to the rule that a man must marry outside his group,
and not to the permitted or merely customary occurrence of
such marriages.
As regards the prohibition of incest so far as it affects kin not
closely related by blood and also as regards the rules o t exogamy
in the case of such kin, it should be noted that these are not
universally obeyed or enforced. Liaisons may be carried on sub
rosa and even marriages are occasionally tolerated. They are
usually condemned by public opinion, though sometimes with
little vehemence or sincerity, or they may be regarded as regret-
table necessities. Thus, irregular relationships crop up from time to
time. In a certain Chinese village it is recorded that several men
lived for a time at least with women in incestuous relationships;
in one case a widower had a liaison with his own daughter, and
though the couple were condemned by public opinion, nothing
was done to put an end to the relationship. Again, Malinowski
has shown that in the Trobriand Islands, although clan incest is
RIGHTS, OBLIGATIONS AND RESTRICTIONS 133
officially prohibited and morally condemned, liaisons of this kind
not only occur, but are actually regarded by the young men as
specially creditable achievements — on the same basis as the young
in most societies take pride in flouting convention. But in the
Trobriands these liaisons cannot continue if they become a public
scandal. If someone, such as a jealous rival, publicly denounces
the culprit, the situation of shame in which the latter finds himself
is so acutely felt that he has no alternative but to commit suicide
by jumping from the top of a palm tree or by taking poison.
Finally, we have referred to the elaborate prohibitions, based on
real or classificatory kinship, connected with marriage in Aus-
tralia. These often mean that the majority of the women in a
particular tribe are prohibited as mates to any given man who
may be unable to find a wife of the correct relationship. In such
cases he usually marries a woman of an inappropriate relation-
ship, either with the reluctant approval of public opinion or in
defiance of it.
We must now consider various explanations of the prohibition
of incest which is universal, and of the rules of exogamy which are
common, in primitive cultures. Several unsatisfactory explanations
of the phenomena have been suggested, and because of their
simplicity have gained wide currency in popular discussions of
primitive society. One such explanation attributes them to a
need, whether consciously recognized or not, to prevent the
alleged evil effects of in-breeding. Now quite apart from the fact
that biologists are by no means agreed on the deleterious effects
of in-breeding, many incest prohibitions preclude sexual rela-
tionships between individuals who are unrelated biologically,
for example, between a man and his son’s wife. And while this
explanation is not inconsistent with the prohibition of incest
within the family, it becomes ludicrous when applied to the rules
of exogamy. For example, where these rules are based on ma tri-
lineal descent, they would permit marriage between a man and
his mother’s brother’s daughter but would forbid him to marry
his mother’s mother’s mother’s daughter’s daughter’s daughter,
and also women of his clan with whom no genealogical relation-
ship could be traced.
Other explanations attribute the prohibition of incest to an
alleged “natural” or “instinctive” aversion to intercourse with
near kin or to the dulling of sex-appeal by prolonged intimate
association from infancy onwards. As with the theory previously
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
134
mentioned, these explanations do not take into account the actual
incidence of incest prohibitions, which often apply to relatives
who are only related by fictional kinship, with whom no biological
or genealogical relationship can be traced, who are regarded by
the natives as by ourselves as distant kin, and who may even be
complete strangers to each other. Furthermore, such interpreta-
tions, which assume a spontaneous mental process as a basis for
incest prohibitions, do not take account of the widespread sanc-
tions designed for their reinforcement. In all societies incest is
morally condemned, and in some this condemnation is backed by
powerful legal sanctions; in others it is believed to lead to terrify-
ing supernatural punishments — misfortune, illness or death. Why
should the most powerful forces of human society be mobilized
in this way to prevent the individual from performing an act
towards which he feels “natural” indifference or even aversion?
We must look to the biological and social conditions of family life,
rather than to spontaneous psychological processes, for an
explanation.
In view of what we have said earlier about the extension of
kinship obligations, the reader may have guessed that the pro-
hibition of incest and exogamy are capable of similar explana-
tions, the latter being an extension of the former. This is in fact the
case. Let us commence with the problem of the prohibition of
incest.
Because of its importance in human evolution, sex is a powerful
force, but one whose frustration lets loose the most disruptive of
human passions. On the other hand, these passions must be
controlled in the interests of social order. Nowhere is this so true
as in the family, whose intimate system of domestic and economic
co-operation necessitates harmonious relationships between its
members. Paternal love and filial respect cannot be maintained
if father and son are rivals for the sexual favours of the same
woman. Family life would be impossible if brothers were always
quarrelling, as they would be if they were allowed access to their
sisters. The same interpretation applies to wider kinship groups
such as the clan. Here, again, the need for harmonious co-
operation in economic, political and religious activity is threat-
ened by the disruptive forces of sex, and this leads to the rules of
exogamy and the prohibition of clan incest. This is one of the
extensions of family sentiments, in this case of a negative order,
which lie at the base of the classificatory system of relationship.
RIGHTS, OBLIGATIONS AND RESTRICTIONS 135
For example, by calling all female members of his clan “sister”,
a man establishes a relationship of fictional kinship with
them which precludes, ideally at least, marriage or sexual
intercourse.
That the above explanation of the prohibition of incest docs
not rest merely on assumption and a priori argument will be seen
from a vivid account of the tension and finally disruption actually
caused in a household group by one of the cases of incest in a
Chinese village mentioned earlier in this section. The case in
question was that of a farmer who lived in an extended family
group consisting of nine members. Only the eldest son was
married, and this man’s wife entered into an incestuous relation-
ship with her husband’s father. Professor Hsu (1) describes the
consequences as follows:
“At first his son only learned vaguely about the father’s liaison
with his wife. One day, there was a witch doctor curing some
illness . . . next door. All the members of . . . (the) family, except
the father and daughter-in-law and her two months’ old child,
went out to watch the proceeding, which was always fascinating.
Unfortunately, the son came back alone earlier than the others,
and to his vexation, he found his father having sexual intercourse
with his wife. I did not know exactly what they said to each other
at this moment, but when the rest of the family and some relatives
returned to his house (I was among them), we found a great
drama: the daughter-in-law was trying to commit suicide publicly
by drinking a bowl of distilled salt. This was at once stopped by
relatives. The son then dashed out of the room and loudly abused
his father with the worst language. The father at first pretended
that he did not hear, but when the abusive language continued
for some time, he jumped up and attempted to whip his son. This
was again stopped by relatives. After that time there was a wide
gap, with mutual suspicion, between the son and the father. They
could never get along with each other as they did before. The
father’s wife also bore a grudge against her husband. Thus, the
authority of the father was greatly shaken. He also felt as if he had
not much face to meet others. Soon after that there was talk about
division of the family, but this did not occur until three years later
because of the son’s economic inability.”
In conclusion, it should be mentioned that although the pre-
vention of conflict within closely-knit groups appears to be the
primary function of the rules prohibiting incest and those of
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
136
exogamy, such rules also play a more positive part in social life.
They ensure that smaller social units shall be bound to one
another by ties of affinal kinship, and so conduce to the integra-
tion of wider social groups.
The explanation of the rules of endogamy, which is far less
common than exogamy, is much easier for the European to
appreciate because of its occurrence, de facto if not as an absolute
rule, among royal families and aristocratic classes in modern
times. Everyone is familiar with the abdications and other drastic
consequences which have resulted from failure to observe it, as
with the morganatic marriages which attempt to reconcile the
wishes of individuals with the endogamic principle. In many
primitive societies endogamy is similarly correlated with the
existence of hereditary social classes, whose economic, political
and social privileges it serves to maintain by preserving the con-
ception of purity of blood. It thus gives offspring a double claim
to power or economic privilege, while preventing any association
between them and members of the lower classes. It may be men-
tioned that the brother-sister marriages of the Incas , 1 Hawaiians
and ancient Egyptians should be regarded as exceptional ex-
tensions of the principle of endogamy rather than as negating
the universal significance of the prohibition of incest.
The rules of endogamy are not only less common than those of
exogamy, but are in general less rigidly defined. Sometimes, as in
Indian caste systems generally, the group within which a man
must marry is clearly circumscribed. But in other societies, for
example, in the aristocracies of Polynesia as in modern Europe,
the highest ranks shade off into those of the lesser nobility, so
that no hard-and-fast line can be drawn between them.
We may conclude the discussion of the rights and obligations of
kinship by reference to two types of standardized behaviour
found sporadically in primitive society, namely, avoidance and
the joking relationship. The rule of avoidance, in its most ex-
treme form, means that individuals who stand in a particular
relationship must, as far as possible, ignore each other’s existence
and must refrain from social intercourse. They may not speak to
each other, and if they meet on a path, one must stand aside or
1 An interesting speculation has been put forward to account for the incestuous
marriages of the royal Incas. The Inca empire apparently embraced many different
peoples, some of whom were patrilineal and others matrilineal. At the head of this
empire was a personage who was the legitimate successor to the title under either
system, and who would therefore be acceptable to all his subjects.
RIGHTS, OBLIGATIONS AND RESTRICTIONS 137
make a detour. Sometimes they may not even mention each other’s
names.
The most common relationship in which avoidance is en-
joined is that between a man and his wife’s mother, commonly
called “mother-in-law avoidance ”. 1 But the custom may be
observed with other kinsfolk also, particularly other affinal kin,
and also between brothers and sisters. In most of these instances
avoidance does not take the extreme form described above, and
would be better described as restrained behaviour. All degrees of
restraint are found, from complete avoidance to mere limitations
on speech, certain words or allusions being prohibited between
specific relatives who, in other respects, may associate freely and
co-operate socially. Commonly such verbal restrictions apply to
references to sexual matters. For this and other reasons avoidance
has been explained as a mechanism for the prevention of sexual
intercourse, the significance of which will be apparent from our
discussion of incest. But this is at best a partial explanation, for
it does not account for cases of avoidance between relatives of the
same sex, for example, between a man and his wife’s father. These
occur in some primitive societies, though they arc neither so
stringent nor so widespread as avoidance between kinsfolk of
different sexes.
The joking relationship refers to the custom whereby specific
relatives may or must joke with or tease each other when they
meet. The joking relationship is commonly found between
affinal kin. As with avoidance, there is a great range of variation
in the actual usages described by the term. Sometimes joking is
obligatory, sometimes optional. It may be symmetrical, both
parties making jokes at each other’s expense, or one party may be
expected to take the jokes of the other in good part without
retaliating. It may or may not be accompanied by horseplay, and
the inclusion or otherwise of obscene references in the jokes is also
variable.
1 The operation of this custom is illustrated by an incident which occurred while I
was working among the Karadjcri. A missionary, travelling in his car with a party of
natives from a distant tribe, stopped for the night at Lagrange Bay. In the evening the
visiting aborigines gathered at the camp of the Lagrange Bay natives for a “corro-
boree”, a colloquial expression in Australia for singing and dancing, particularly
around the camp-fire at night. As I passed by the missionary’s car, I noticed one of the
visiting natives sitting alone on the running-board smoking his pipe. When I asked
him why he had not joined in the festivities, he replied that there was a classificatory
wife’s mother of his among the Lagrange Bay people, and he could therefore not join
the group. The fact that he came from a place some two hundred miles away
illustrates very well the ramification of Australian kinship relationships.
138 social organization
Strange as it may seem, the two contrasting customs of avoid-
ance and the joking relationship appear, in certain cases at least,
to be capable of a similar explanation. All kinship relationships
entail expressions of goodwill and mutual services between the
kinsmen concerned. But in many of them, particularly between
affinal kin, this is tinged by a feeling of tension and even by the
possible hostility which may arise from the failure of one party to
honour his or her obligations. The terms solidarity and opposition 1
have been used to describe these contrasting aspects of kinship
relationships, and more recently Professor Radcliffe-Brown has
suggested the terms conjunction and disjunction . The psychological
term ambivalent might be used to describe relationships in which
both of these contrasting aspects occur, but in the present context
without the implications of violent emotion and the process of
repression involved in the psycho-analytic use of the word.
Whatever terms we use, it is clear that certain relationships
between kin entail contradictory feelings and patterns of be-
haviour, which may produce situations of tension and em-
barrassment. One way of preventing the occurrence of such
situations is to enjoin complete avoidance, or to impose formal
restrictions on mutual behaviour. But the sort of contradictory
relationship we have described can also be expressed by joking.
On the one hand laughter expresses a certain mild hostility, and
there is a feeling that to make a joke at someone’s expense is a
way of “scoring off” them. This is reflected (cind over-emphasized)
in Hobbes’ attribution of laughter to a feeling of “sudden glory”,
a view which has been taken up and elaborated by many subse-
quent writers. 2 On the other hand, laughter and joking do not
express unmitigated hatred — one does not joke with deadly
enemies. It might be said that mutual jesting implies friendly
hostility. Consequently, the joking relationship avoids tension
between kinsfolk by enabling them to express both aspects of their
ambivalent relationship at the same time.
1 These terms have been extensively employed, particularly by French sociologists,
to refer also to social relationships other than those founded on kinship. They are use-
ful in a general way as stressing the fact that no relationship between individuals or
between social groups can be completely and permanently harmonious. But they are
apt to obscure the specific character of the relationships concerned. The forms of
solidarity existing between husband and wife, between comrades-in-arms and between
boon companions are radically different in terms of feelings, obligations and social
functions. The same applies to the forms of opposition existing between protagonists
in a scientific controversy, between pugilists in the boxing ring and between nations at
war.
* For a critical review of theories of laughter, see Piddington (3) .
MARRIAGE OBSERVANCES
139
6. Marriage Observances
The social bond of marriage is recognized and regulated in
various ways in different primitive societies. Many of the usages
connected with marriage depend upon the fact that each of the
two parties is a member of a distinct family group, through which
they both possess a set of wider kinship bonds. With the general
significance of such bonds we are already familiar. Their import-
ance here lies in the fact that marriage links together, not only
two individuals, but also their respective kinsfolk. While this is
true in all societies, it is of paramount importance in primitive
cultures, where there usually exist elaborate social arrangements
to regulate the relationships between affinal kin.
Among the most important of these is the widespread practice
of bride-price , 1 the transfer at marriage of gifts from the bride-
groom and his kinsfolk to those of the bride. The nature of the
possessions given in this way is variable — cattle (and also hoes
and other subsidiary forms of wealth) among most Bantu and
other African pastoralists, pigs or shell currency in parts of
Melanesia, and reindeer in the case of the Tungus turi . In some
communities the whole bride-price is handed over at one time,
either before, or immediately after, the couple begin to co-habit;
but in others payment may be deferred, or may take the form of
a prolonged series of presentations. Thus an Australian aborigine
from time to time sends material possessions — tools, weapons,
ornaments, or articles of clothing — to the family of his wife,
an obligation which continues throughout the whole of his
lifetime.
There are various principles underlying the practice of bride-
price. The incidence and relative importance of these vary from
one community to another. The most general principle rests upon
the economic value of women in primitive society. Because of the
economic division of labour between the sexes, young girls are
most useful to their parents, helping in the production of food as
well as in domestic tasks. The loss of such services demands
some compensation, which may take the form of bride-price, or
1 Exception has been taken to the use of this term, because it may imply, and has
often been held to imply, that the woman concerned is a mere chattel. As we shall
see, this view is totally incorrect, and because of the misunderstandings which have
occurred, the alternative term bride-wealth has been proposed, but has not gained
universal currency. There should be no objection to the use of the term bride-price if we
remember that we often use the word “price” iri a metaphorical and non-mercenary
sense, for example, “The price of freedom is perpetual vigilance.”
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
140
alternatively of the rendering of actual services by the husband to
the family of his wife, as among the Bemba.
But the loss which a family suffers at the marriage of one of its
young women is not merely economic. Because of the bonds of
personal affection and loyalty existing within the family there is
also a social or spiritual loss. On the other hand, the husband
receives more than merely economic services from his wife — she
is also his companion, his sexual mate and the person who bears
and cares for his children. The partial transfer of a woman’s
allegiance and companionship from her family calls for some
compensation, so that the balance achieved by bride-price is
social as well as economic. This reciprocal character of primitive
marriage arrangements is clearly seen in the occasional practice
of sister exchange, which may take the place of, or supplement,
bride-price. In this case two men marry each other’s sisters, so
that the loss of one woman by each family is offset by the acquisi-
tion of another.
Since the payment of bride-price is essential to the bond of
marriage in certain communities, it also establishes the legitimacy
of the offspring of the union — according to one Bantu saying:
“Cattle beget children”. It is the lobola payment which establishes
the claim of a father to his children and their membership of his
patrilineal group. This is most clearly seen in certain Bantu groups
where, in case of divorce, the children remain with their father
unless the original cattle handed over at marriage are returned,
in which case the children belong to the group of their mother.
This rule is summed up in the native saying: “The children are
where the cattle are not
Certain important subsidiary functions are served by bride-
price in different primitive communities. Where there is an elabor-
ate political organization, the payments are usually much more
lavish in the case of chiefs and men of rank than among com-
moners, and this serves to support their authority and prestige.
Again, the need in Bantu society for a man to obtain the necessary
lobola cattle, which are mainly provided by his father, is an in-
direct means of supporting parental authority. Finally, it must be
emphasized that the custom of bride-price does not stop with one
transaction. The cattle or other wealth obtained in return for a
woman are very frequently used at a later date to obtain a wife
for her brother, and a progressive series of such transactions links
together a whole series of individuals and groups in a complex
MARRIAGE OBSERVANCES
, 4 I * *
network of social relationships which is characteristic of primitive
society. This process has been graphically described by Mr.
Cullen Young in his discussion of bride- wealth : “To those who,
whenever they read the new phrase, see at once the little bunch of
cattle setting out from one group-settlement to another, and see
simultaneously the maiden setting out in the opposite direction
and, so to say, passing the animals on the way; who see also those
beasts kraaled and tended till a later day, when they again set out
from the settlement that had in the first instance been that of a
receiving wife-group but has now become that of a paying
husband-group, as a young male in the family has reached the
stage of taking a wife; who see this process going on endlessly and
these cattle always when they set out equating with a maiden
likewise setting out to meet and transfer for them; to those alone
has the phrase ‘bride-wealth 5 its real meaning ,5 . 1
In view of the reciprocal character of relationships set up
between different groups of kinsfolk by marriage, the custom of
bride-price usually co-exists with obligations on the part of the
kinsfolk of the bride to make complementary gifts to those of the
bridegroom. These are usually of less value, and are often mere
formalities having little economic significance. The term dowry a
should not be used for such purely ceremonial gifts, but should be
reserved for major payments in communities where unmarried
women are, to some extent, a liability. As we have seen, the con-
trary is generally true in primitive society. Consequently, where
dowry gifts are the custom, they are usually offset or outweighed
by bride-price, as we have seen among the Tungus. In Samoa the
reciprocal payments are of approximately equal value, the kinsfolk
of the bridegroom providing oloa (food, tools, weapons and orna-
ments), while those of the bride return tonga , consisting primarily
of fine mats. The whole exchange is made publicly, and is an
important ceremonial event.
In other societies, also, marriage is marked by ceremonial,
feasting, or various rites designed to reflect symbolically the new
union between the man and woman concerned — for example,
sitting together in public, joining hands, sharing a meal or even a
semi-public consummation of the marriage. Sometimes the pro-
visioning of feasts and ceremonies is a heavy economic burden on
1 Cullen Young (2), p. 69.
• This word is sometimes used, quite incorrectly, to refer to bride-price, of which it
is the antithesis.
SOCIAL ORGAN I Z All ON
> 4 *
the families of* the bride or of the bridegroom, as it is in many
Indian and Chinese peasant communities. It is important to note
that in most primitive societies wedding ceremonies are not
religious in the sense in which they are among ourselves. Some-
times there are magico-religious rites to ensure prosperity, the
health and abundance of offspring and good fortune generally,
but these are practical in their intention and do not sanctify the
marriage. The secular character of primitive marriage is reflected
in the fact that there is generally no religious or legal bar to
divorce. This does not mean that the marriage relationship is
unstable. There are many social and practical obstacles to divorce,
such as the shame implied in the suggestion that one party has
failed to honour their marital obligations and the economic
complications connected with bride-price, which we have
touched upon in connection with lobola .
A dramatic custom known as marriage by capture is found
sporadically among primitive peoples. This means the forcible
abduction of the bride by the bridegroom, usually accompanied
by some show of resistance by her relatives. Usually, though not
always, this is a purely ceremonial affair, the match having been
agreed upon beforehand. In view of what has been said above,
the reader will appreciate the significance of this custom which
has frequently been misinterpreted as a “survival” of a stage of
society when all marriages were based upon abduction of the
bride against the will of her family. Actually, of course, it is a
ceremonial reflection of the socio-economic loss sustained by the
latter, and of the substratum of hostility inherent in affinal
relationships.
Because of the ramifications of kinship systems, marriages
between kinsfolk are common in primitive society. The extreme
form of this is found in Australia, where it will be clear that a man
must marry a kinswoman, since he is related by bonds of kinship,
real or classificatory, to everyone with whom he comes into
contact. While this is not true in other primitive societies, many of
them do prescribe certain relatives who are preferable as mates.
This custom is known as preferential marriage* The commonest
unions so prescribed are those between cross-cousins, particularly
between a man and his mother’s brother’s daughter. This is the
preferred type of marriage among many Bantu peoples, though
others enjoin marriage with father’s sister’s daughter. In some
Australian tribes cross-cousin marriages are not only preferential
MARRIAGE OBSERVANCES 143
but obligatory. For the different varieties of such unions the
following terms are sometimes used :
Marriage with either of a man’s cross-cousins: Bilateral cross-
cousin marriage .
Marriage with mother’s brother’s daughter: Matrilateral cross-
cousin marriage .
Marriage with father’s sister’s daughter: Patrilateral cross-
cousin marriage.
But cross-cousins are by no means the only kin preferred as
mates. Mohammedan law encourages marriage between parallel
cousins, and in other communities even more remote kin are re-
garded as the most suitable or as the only possible mates, as in the
Australian examples given in Chapter III, Section 9.
In connection with preferential marriages, we must refer to two
terms which correspond to widespread types of marriage, namely,
the lcvirate and the sororate. Under the levirate, when a man
dies his widow becomes the wife of one of his brothers. In some
communities a man must marry his deceased brother’s wife, in
others he may waive the right if he does not want the woman.
The children of such a union are sometimes regarded socially as
the children of the dead man. In this case the second husband
“raises up seed” to his deceased brother. When the duty or
privilege of marrying a deceased brother’s widow is restricted to
his younger brother, the custom is known as the junior levirate .
The term sororate is a somewhat ambiguous one, being used
in three different senses by various writers to refer to: (a) the rule
whereby a man who marries a woman has a pre-emptive right to
marry also her younger sisters as they reach maturity; ( b ) the
rule whereby if a man wishes to marry more than one wife, the
subsidiary wives must be sisters of his first wife; (c) the rule where-
by if a man marries and his first wife dies, then his wife’s kinsfolk
are under an obligation to provide him with another wife,
particularly if the first wife has died childless. The last of these
uses of the term is analogous to the levirate.
Both the levirate and the sororate serve useful social functions
in the communities in which they occur. The former provides for
the disposal of widows. Owing to the sexual division of labour in
primitive society, a woman who lacks the co-operation of a man
cannot lead an independent existence. She can and sometimes
does return to her own people, where she relies on the co-opera-
tion of her male consanguineous kin. But it is more satisfactory
144 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
that she should re-marry, and the levirate ensures that this shall
occur with the least possible social friction and disruption of the
kinship system. Furthermore, when a man dies childless, the
levirate often ensures the continuity of his line, since the com-
munity may regard subsequent children as his. This is frequently
connected with ancestor worship, and the feeling that every man
should have descendants who will make offerings to him and
perform ceremonies in his honour after his death. On the other
hand, the sororate (in the last of the senses mentioned above)
ensures that a man who has handed over bride-price shall have
the privileges to which this entitles him— the services of a wife
and descendants to assist him during life and pay homage to him
after death. Where the term “sororate” refers to marriage with
sisters who are alive at the same time (the first two meanings
given above), this custom, which is often observed in practice
even when it is not obligatory, means that a man’s wives are
sisters to each other. This reduces the tensions and conflicts
which are always apt to arise between co-wives in polygynous
societies.
7. Extended Kinship Groupings
In all societies the family is the basic unit of kinship structure,
and in the case of any individual, kinship relationships arc traced
through both parents whatever may be the system of descent.
For example, we have referred to the importance of the mother’s
brother in patrilineal societies. But for purposes of social contin-
uity one or other parent only is usually regarded as relevant,
according to whether descent is patrilineal or matrilineal. The
fact that this is consistently applied in all families in a community
leads to the formation of extended kinship groupings founded on
unilateral descent either through males or through females. 1 The
first of these to be considered is the lineage.
A lineage consists of a group of males and females who trace
descent from a common ancestor or ancestress 2 in the patrilineal
1 As we shall see, a few societies have extended kinship groupings in which descent
through both parents is recognized.
2 In view of what was said in Section 3 regarding the exercise of power by males in
matrilineal societies, it must be emphasized that in such societies it is often the brother
of an ancestress, rather than the ancestress herself, who is emphasized. Thus the
effective head of a matrilineal lineage is usually its senior living male member, while
among dead forbears it is often the brother of an ancestress, rather than the ancestress
herself, who is emphasized in religion and mythology. But the matrilineal principle is
strictly observed — the individual in question owes his importance to his relationship
through a female to the lineage as a whole.
ORDER OF SEGMENTATION.
EXTE NDED KINSHIP GROUPINGS
145
or in the matrilineal line. Usually most of the members of a
lineage are dead, but this does not affect the structure of the unit.
A large lineage is often subdivided into subsidiary units of the
same type but of smaller size, and for these certain special terms
have been suggested. The term maximal lineage refers to the largest
group of kinsmen who can trace descent from a common forbear.
This may consist of two or more major segments , which may again
be subdivided into lesser segments and so on until we come to the
minimal lineage, in a patrilineal society, of a man and his children . 1
Fig. 10.— Paradigm of the Lineage System of the Tallensi
A paradigm of the hierarchical lineage structure of the patrilineal
Tallensi is given in Fig. 10. It should be noted that this diagram is
schematic only, and omits females who are sisters of male mem-
bers of each lineage and who also belong to it. The term agnatic
which appears in the diagram is, in the context, equivalent to
what we would call patrilineal kinsfolk.
In the lineage each individual can trace explicitly his genea-
logical connection with the forbear upon whom the lineage
1 The unit to which the term minimal lineage might be applied in a matrilineal society
is open to question. If we follow the analogy from patrilineal descent, it should consist
of a woman and her children. But in view of the legal and economic position of the
mother’s brother of the children in such societies, he should probably be included,
since he is essential to the social functioning of the unit.
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
146
depends for its existence. In other words, he can name all the
individuals in the intervening generations through whom descent
is claimed. But there are other unilateral units in which the kin-
ship of members is fictional. It may be attributed to descent from
a common ancestor with whom explicit genealogical relationship
cannot be traced, or individuals may claim fellow-membership
of a group simply because their relevant parents belonged to it.
The best known of such units is the clan. A clan, sometimes
called a sib or sept, is an exogamous social group whose members
regard themselves as being related to each other, usually by
fictional descent from a common ancestor. Clans may be patri-
lineal or matrilineal, and the two types occasionally co-exist in
the same community.
The above definition by no means corresponds with the many
different senses in which the word “clan” is used by various
writers. These differences in usage arc apt to lead to confusion,
and some discussion of them is therefore necessary. Thus the term
“clan” is often used for units whose members can trace explicitly
their descent from a common ancestor, and which would there-
fore be better termed lineages. It has also been applied to aggre-
gations of individuals who have nothing in common except the
rule of exogamy prohibiting intermarriage between them. Thus,
in the classical legal code of China, people having the same sur-
name were not allowed to marry, though apparently little atten-
tion is paid to this rule nowadays. Chinese individuals having the
same surname have therefore sometimes been referred to as a
“clan”, a usage which is highly questionable in view of the fact that
they were scattered over the whole country and never functioned
as a group. On the other hand, Professor Firth uses the term to
apply to the four component units of Tikopia society, for although
they are not exogamous, they function in other respects as clans.
There can be little objection to such usages provided that the
writer makes clear exactly what he means when he speaks of a
clan, but unfortunately this is not always the case in ethno-
graphic records. A usage which is quite unjustifiable is the
employment of the term “clan” of the extended family, to be
described presently, which includes affinal kin. The very essence
of the clan is consanguineous kinship, whether genealogically
definable or fictional.
In connection with the Tikopia usage, it should be noted that
the original Scottish clan does not correspond with the above
EXTENDED KINSHIP GROUPINGS
H7
definition, since it has never, so far as we know, been cxogamous.
The adoption of the Gaelic term with the specialized meaning
usually given to it by anthropological writers is resented by some
Scotsmen, and undoubtedly adds to the confusions surrounding
our use of the word. But as the criterion of exogamy is generally
observed in the mass of existing anthropological literature, it is
better to adhere to it as closely as possible. Finally, we must
mention the fact that the terminology used by certain American
writers in speaking of “clans” varies from that employed in Great
Britain according to the following table of equivalence:
British Terminology
Clan
Patrilineal clan
Matrilineal clan
American Terminology
Sib
Gens
Clan
The bonds of fictional kinship which unite fellow-members of
the group to which the term “clan” is usually applied arc reflected
in close social solidarity and binding obligations akin to those we
have mentioned in connection with kinship. Fellow-clansmen
support one another in quarrels with members of other clans, and
they co-operate in practical day-to-day activities, such as house-
building or major economic undertakings, though frequently
such co-operation is limited in practice to those clansmen who are
also bound together by bonds of individual kinship or neighbour-
hood. The clan is frequently a political and war-making unit.
Finally, clan membership is frequently sanctioned by religious
observances, such as the worship of a common ancestor 1 or the
possession of a common totem or totems (see Chapter V, Section
5). Often the members of a small clan inhabit a common terri-
tory, apart from those who have left the clan territory at marriage.
The social, economic and political implications of clan-member-
ship in a primitive society are well exemplified in the material from
Wogeo which we shall examine in a later chapter.
Sometimes two or more clans are linked together to form a wider
group which is also cxogamous. Such a group is termed a phratry . 2
Thus, among the Chenchus there are several patrilineal clans,
the occurrence of which varies from one Chenchu area to another.
1 When a clan or other social group actually bears the name of the man from whom
its members believe themselves to be descended, this man is called the eponymous
ancestor of the group concerned.
* Sometimes the terms clan and sub-clan are used instead ©f phratry and clan , but this
is impossible where the larger groups are not named.
148 social organization
In one district ten clans are found, and these are grouped together
into four larger units as follows :
1. Menlur, Daserolu.
2. Sigarlu, Urtalu.
3. Tokal, Nallapoteru, Katraj.
4. Nimal, Eravalu, Pulsaru.
These wider groups are phratries, since a man of the Nimal clan,
for example, is prohibited from marrying, not only a Nimal
woman, but also any woman of the Eravalu or Pulsaru clans. 1
In communities where two exogamous groups exist, such
groups are termed moieties, and the community is said to possess
a dual organization . In some societies the moieties are the only
exogamous unilateral groups. In others each moiety is composed
of several component clans. Such moieties are structurally equi-
valent to phratries, and are sometimes so called by American
writers.
Because of its size, the moiety can never be a closely co-operat-
ing unit as is the clan, though particular members of the two
moieties arc often aligned vis-a-vis one another in a comple-
mentary manner in practical undertakings and ceremonial
affairs, as we have seen to be the case among the Haida. In other
communities the interrelationships between members of the same
or different moieties are confined to limited ceremonial and more
or less formal observances, as in the matrilineal moieties of
Wogeo.
We have so far considered groups founded on unilateral con-
sanguineous kinship. But certain important groupings depend
upon bilateral and also affinal kinship, and are frequently
associated with common residence. The best known and most
widespread grouping founded on kinship is the extended family , 2
sometimes called the joint family because of their common claims
to land and certain kinds of property. The extended family is a
group founded on kinship and locality, and resulting from the
rules of patrilocal or of matrilocal marriage. It is a socially
recognized group of individual families living together in close
association, which are bound together by the fact that either :
1 The Chenchu phratries are not named, and the people themselves have no very
clear conception of their structure. Every Chenchu knows the clans into which he may
not marry, but informants are apt to become vague when discussing the possibility of
intermarriage between clans other than their own.
1 The German term Grossfamilie is sometimes used to denote this type of grouping.
EXTENDED KINSHIP GROUPINGS
149
(a) The men in each of the individual families are genea-
logically related in the male line (the patrilineal or patri-
local extended family); or
(. b ) The women in each of the individual families are genea-
logically related in the female line (the matrilineal or
matrilocal extended family).
The relationship is traced to a grandparent or more distant for-
bear. The core of an extended family is thus a patrilineal or matri-
lineal lineage (or rather segment of a lineage), plus males or
females who have joined the extended family at marriage minus
males or females who have left it at marriage. It also differs from
the lineage in the greater emphasis placed upon living as opposed
to dead forbears.
The extended family must be carefully distinguished from the
clan, with which it is often confused. T he following are important
differences :
Extended Family Clan
Always an economic unit. Frequently an economic unit, but
not always so.
Always a local group. Members may be scattered over a
wide area.
Includes affinal kin. Does not include affinal kin.
Genealogical relationships can be Genealogical relationships be-
traced between all members. tween members not necessarily
definable.
The kinship relationships within the extended family are
founded on the bilateral principle. For example, in a matrilocal
extended family, an unmarried man’s father is also a member,
although he is not, under matriliny, a consanguineous relative,
and the same applies to other men who have married into the
group.
So far as the extended family is concerned, group relationships
(as distinct from individual kinship bonds) are not extended
beyond the group of kin who reside together. But bilateral groups
of a non-residential kind are occasionally found in primitive
society. Such groups are often referred to by the term kindred,
but no exact definition of this word is satisfactory, because the
types of grouping of which we are speaking vary enormously in
the importance which they attach to different kinds of kinship
(patrilineal or matrilineal, consanguineous or affinal), in the
range to which the recognition of kinship extends, and in the
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
15°
lateral as against the vertical extension of' recognized relation-
ships.
The best example of a bilateral non-residential grouping is the
kano a paito of Tikopia. This is a body of relatives composed of an
individual’s kinsfolk on both the father’s and the mother’s sides,
as well as some affinal relatives. It is an ill-defined group, member-
ship of which depends upon such factors as proximity of residence
and rank. Thus, when a man falls ill, his kano a paito assemble as
an act of sympathy. The most important members are the close
relatives of the sick man’s mother and father. When we come to
more distant relatives, attendance is to some extent a matter of
individual choice, since membership of the kano a paito is not
rigidly circumscribed or clearly defined. It is also most im-
portant to recognize that this group is not an autonomous unit in
the social structure, distinct from other units of the same type.
It is constituted with reference to a particular individual. That this
is a necessary result of its bilateral constitution will be realized
when we reflect that if it were otherwise in a small primitive
community, everybody would sooner or later belong to all the
bilateral groups in the society, and these would thus lose their
identity. The best analogy with such a bilateral grouping which
can be found in our society is in what we term a “family gather-
ing”, using the term in a non-anthropological sense. The in-
dividual families of the Smiths and the Browns are distinct social
units, but a Christmas gathering at the home of the Smiths may be
attended by members of the Brown family if they are related to
each other by marriage or by descent in either the male or female
line. As with the primitive kindred, the actual working of such
groups depends upon a number of factors, such as residence, rank
and customary usage in different social strata.
We have discussed various types of extended grouping found in
different primitive societies. The relationships of kinship and
locality upon which these are founded may be clarified by refer-
ence to Fig. n. It must be emphasized that this diagram 1 is
schematic only. On the one hand, all the groups mentioned
could not co-exist in any given primitive society. On the other
hand, the diagram represents a simplification and attenuation
1 Readers who find difficulty in following the diagram in its existing form may be
helped by copying out the symbols and substituting underlining with different-coloured
pencils for the letters which indicate various relationships. Thus, patrilineal kinsfolk
could be underlined in red, matiilineal in blue, and so on. Such a diagram gives a
much more vivid impression of the relationships concerned.
EXTENDED KINSHIP GROUPINGS
i5t
ol the relationships actually recognized. Thus many affinal
relatives are omitted, while the diagram gives a misleading
impression of the numbers of individuals who may constitute a
maximal lineage, as will be seen by comparing it with Fig. 10.
The relationships indicated by various letters are given in the
key. To these it must be added that a bilateral non-residential
kinship unit of the kindred type would be composed of some or all
of the patrilineal and ma trilineal kinsfolk and also other con-
sanguineous kin and, in the case of the kano a paito , affinal rela-
tives. The kinship relationships indicated are not necessarily
mutually exclusive owing to the types of preferential marriages
mentioned in Section 6. Finally, as regards the extended family,
it must be pointed out that the diagram does not represent a stable
state of affairs. Thus, in the first descending generation the siblings
of one or other sex would leave the extended family at marriage.
Before concluding our discussion of extended kinship groupings,
it is necessary to refer to certain exceptional or atypical forms.
The first of these is the Maori hapu , which has been described as
ambilateral. The Maori were organized into extended families,
and as one of these expanded it might develop into a hapu , con-
sisting of several hundred people. Usually such a unit inhabited a
single village, though a large village might be shared by several
hapu , while a small one might contain only a section of a hapu. A
man might marry either within or outside his hapu. When parents
belonged to different hapu , their children belonged to either, and
claims to membership might be exercised for two or three genera-
tions either through males or females, though patrilineal affilia-
tion was preferred. Such inherited claims were conditioned by
residence. Thus, if a man from hapu A came to reside with hapu B
and married a woman there, and their descendants continued to
reside with hapu B for several generations, their claims on hapu A in
matters of residence and land ownership became, in the native
idiom, “cold” unless such claims were kept alive by occasional
periods of residence with hapu A. Thus, residence as well as
descent conditioned membership of the hapu.
While the vast majority of primitive peoples stress either
patriliny or matriliny in tracing descent, some of them have two
sets of groups based on different principles. Such a condition
prevails among the Yako and in other West African communities. 1
Every individual in a Yako village belongs to both a patrilineal
1 For example, in Ashanti, though the information for this area is not fully adequate.
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
152
clan and a matrilineal clan, which we may call pun and jima respec-
tively . 1 The rule of exogamy prevails in both, but is less strictly
enforced in the jima than in the pun . Membership of each group
implies a different set of rights and obligations. Marriage is
patrilocal, so that male members of a pun form a residential
group within the village and also cultivate tracts of farm-land
adjoining it. Each pun has a priest, who performs ceremonies at a
special shrine for members of the group and also arbitrates,
together with the elders of the pun, in internal disputes. Claims in
regard to dwelling sites, forest resources, farm-lands and co-
operative labour in the annual clearing of the land are exercised
through, and inherited by, members of the pun .
The jima , on the other hand, are necessarily non-territorial
units, in view of patrilocal marriage. The most important rights
and obligations arising from membership of a jima are those
relating to inheritance of livestock, currency and other movable
property, as distinct from land. When a woman marries, most of
the bride-price 2 goes to members of her jima, who are corres-
pondingly responsible for its return if she should subsequently
leave her husband. On the other hand, members of a man's jima
provide a considerable share of the bride-price which he pays to
members of his bride’s jima. Members of the jima are also respon-
sible for debts incurred by a kinsman, and can claim recompense
for injuries done to him. Though, as we have said, most land rights
and claims to natural resources arc exercised through the pun ,
the jima also have certain limited and specific rights, for example,
in regard to wine collected from oil palms.
The jima also have their own shrines, where spirits of fertility
connected with the jima are invoked by special priests in connec-
tion with agricultural ritual. To these shrines each woman of the
jima is brought during her first pregnancy with offerings to secure
the welfare of her unborn child and her own future fertility. A
corresponding rite is often performed at the father’s pun shrine,
but this is regarded as less important. The supernatural power of
th e jima priests is a sanction for law and order in the village as a
whole (as distinct from disputes within the pan), because they can
enforce the wishes of the village council by appeal to the benefi-
cent or destructive powers of the jima spirits.
1 These are abbreviations of the terms employed by the natives, who actually use
the words kepun and lejtma (singular) or yepun and yajima (plural). But our omission of
the prefixes will simplify reading of the following text.
* This consists traditionally of specified amounts of native currency, food and wine.
EXTENDED KINSHIP GROUPINGS 153
This brief summary indicates the differential rights and
obligations of patrilineal and matrilineal kinship respectively in
such diverse fields as economics, law and religion. These are
complementary to each other and do not normally conflict. The
natives sum up the position by saying that a man cats in his pun
and inherits in his jima. But it must be emphasized that though
some of the rights concerned operate through group membership,
others, such as those pertaining to bride-price, are exercised
through individual kinship and not by the group as a whole.
Though the social structure of the Yako is atypical for primitive
societies, it must not be regarded as contradicting the general
principles which are operative. Though the functions — economic,
legal and religious — corresponding to those we have mentioned
are more commonly discharged either by patrilineal or by matri-
lineal groups, we have seen that in all societies kinship through
both parents is important. We should therefore think of the
majority of primitive societies as being predominantly, rather
than exclusively, either patrilineal or matrilineal. In these terms
the unusual situation found among the Yako represents merely a
consolidation into group relationships of the bonds of individual
kinship through both father and mother which are found in all
societies.
8 . The Family Reconsidered
The preceding sections have indicated the important ways in
which primitive systems of kinship differ from our own and from
one another. But emphasis on such differences is apt to obscure,
and has often in fact obscured, the universal basis of kinship —
the individual family. This unit is founded basically upon the
bio-psychological characteristics of the human organism. In all
communities men and women experience sexual desires towards
each other, and owing to the capacity for habit-formation which
is related to the structure of man’s cerebral cortex, such desires
tend to crystallize around a special individual or individuals.
This, together with economic motives and considerations of
convenience, leads to the permanent association of men and
women in domestic units. In all human societies, women suffer
the trials of pregnancy and childbirth, and everywhere the child-
ren so produced require care and attention during the early years
of their lives — they must be suckled, cleansed and prevented from
injuring themselves. In the course of these profoundly significant
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
if)4
experiences are formed the sentiments of love, tenderness and
mutual dependence which are the foundation of the family.
But the family also has other functions. Because of the need lor
domestic co-operation and sexual division of labour in the
economic field, and also because of the wider bonds of kinship —
real, classificatory and fictional — beyond its bounds, it is essential
that every child born into a society should have two parents . 1
This is everywhere recognized, even though in certain com-
munities the stigma attaching to illegitimacy may be relatively
slight and the social bond of marriage may not be very clearly
defined, or may be, in many individual cases, impermanent.
The basic unit of all human societies is the group of man, woman
and children living together in an association which is regarded as
right and proper, and which is not inconsistent with the need for
establishing wider bonds of kinship, particularly those connected
with descent, succession and inheritance.
All this may appear trite to the reader who is not familiar with
the evolutionary controversies which raged around the subject of
the family during the late nineteenth and early twentieth cen-
turies. Some of the theories expounded denied the existence of the
family either in contemporary primitive communities or in the
hypothetical conditions of early social life in the distant past.
They asserted that the functions of the family were originally
discharged by a wider unit, such as the matrilineal clan, to the
constitution of which paternity is not necessary. Such theories
often referred to the fact that the natives of the Trobriand Islands
and the Australian aborigines do not know of the connection
between sexual intercourse and childbirth, and are therefore
ignorant of physiological paternity . 2 It was inferred that no such
thing as fatherhood could exist in such communities. A refutation
of this assertion is provided by reference to data obtained by
modern methods of field-work.
1 The emphasis upon the bilateral character of the family has been called the
principle of legitimacy.
2 It is important to stress the fact that the Trobriand Islands and Australia are the
only well-authenticated instances of the absence of knowledge of any connection
between the two events. Other primitive communities recognize some connection,
though their accounts of the physiology of reproduction are always superficial and
frequently inaccurate. More important still, the biological facts, so far as they are
known, may not be regarded as socially relevant. In this connection recent research
has indicated that among some Australian tribes certain individuals are aware of the
relationship, but this is not important, since paternity is socially established in other
ways. The theoretical implications of the Australian and Trobriand data, particularly
the misleading implications in regard to social evolution and native intelligence
which have been attributed to them, will be dealt with in Volume II.
THE FAMILY RECONSIDERED 155
We have seen that in the Trobriand Islands many of the duties
carried out by the father in our own community are discharged,
not by the father, but by the mother’s brother. It is the latter
who disciplines the child and who gives him his place in the com-
munity, for a man inherits wealth, magical knowledge, status
and rank, not from his father, but from his mother’s brother. A
child, its mother and its mother’s brother all belong to the same
clan, while the father belongs to another, owing the obligations
which we have mentioned, not to his own children, but to those
of his sister.
If, then, society excludes the father from this social scheme,
where does he enter into family life? Stripped of the functions
which we attribute to him, can the “father” be said to exist in
such a community, and, if so, in what sense? The answer is to be
found in the facts of family life. The father is, first and foremost,
the consort of the mother, her sexual partner, her protector and
helpmate. This establishes an indirect bond between the father
and child through the mother. But when the child is born, a very
direct relationship is established; it is the father who cares for the
child during its early years, who carries out menial service for it,
and who lavishes upon it all the blessings of paternal affection.
These experiences of early care establish between father and son
sentiments of affection which arc just as real as our own; if a
Trobriander is asked why a father loves his child, he will reply:
“Because his hands have been soiled with its excrement”, a vivid
way of expressing the intimate services which a father carries out
for his child. So effective is this in establishing parental love, that a
father will often try to evade the rules of mother-right, and seek to
secure for his own children privileges which belong by right
to his sister’s children . 1
Even a superficial survey of the ethnographic material indicates
the absurdity of suggesting that the clan can ever have discharged
1 One perfectly legitimate means by which a Trobriand father, if he is a chief or
other man of wealth and position, may secure benefits for his son is by betrothing this
son in infancy to his (the chief’s) sister’s daughter. The implications of this may be
clarified with reference to Fig. 12. Let us suppose that A is a chief who betroths his
son C in infancy to b. While B is the legitimate successor to A and inherits his wealth,
C has nevertheless economic claims on B through the system of urigubu gifts. He is
also in a privileged position in other respects and his own son D is a possible successor
to the chieftainship. The strict rules of matriliny, so far as they conflict with paternal
affection, are thus to some extent circumvented. A similar expedient is adopted in
other communities. Thus, among the Yako a man of substance sometimes arranges a
similar marriage for his son, so that the movable wealth inherited in the matrilineal
line reverts, after a lapse of' one generation, to a patrilineal kinsman of the original
owner, that is, to his son’s son.
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
156
the functions of the family. A clan cannot wash a baby or perform
the intimate services referred to in the Trobriand saying quoted
above.
Though the phenomenon known as the “ignorance of physio-
logical paternity” is confined, so far as is at present known, to the
two societies mentioned, the irrelevance of physiological paternity
is far more common. It clearly occurs in polyandrous societies
and in those instances of the levirate in which a man “raises up
seed” to his dead brother. Again, it is obvious that little import-
ance can be attached to it in those communities which allow or
prescribe extra-marital sexual intercourse. Furthermore, what
has been said of paternity can also be said, to some extent, of
maternity. In the latter case the physiological bond is more
apparent and more intimate. But in some patrilineal societies the
D
Fig. 12. — Trobriand Gross-cousin Marriage
woman is regarded merely as the soil in which the seed of the
father germinates. This, again, does not negate the reality of
maternal affection or the socially recognized fact of motherhood.
It merely means that the interpretation of the physiological facts
of reproduction is different from our own. Finally, the wide-
spread practice of adoption in various primitive societies indi-
cates how readily family sentiments can be established irrespective
of physiological relationships. In all these cases our own knowl-
edge of, and emphasis on, the physiology of reproduction is a bar
to understanding. We could appreciate primitive attitudes to-
wards parenthood far more readily if we all believed in the stork.
Though the family is universal in human societies, we have
seen that some of the functions normally discharged by one or
other parent may be taken over by other individuals or agencies.
Lest we should give a too rigid impression of family life, we may
consider the extremely atypical form of family organization,
described by Professor Evans-Pritchard, among the patrilineal
Nuer.
THE FAMILY RECONSIDERED
157
The social bond of marriage is established among the Nuer by
the performance of a sequence of ceremonies and by the handing
over of cattle by the bridegroom to the kin of the bride, but it is
not regarded as complete until after the birth of the first child.
The simple legal family of the ordinary type exists among the
Nuer, but is supplemented by other forms of union, including the
levirate and an unusual type of relationship which has been
termed ghost-marriage. Under the latter, if a man, married or un-
married, dies without male issue, it becomes the duty of one of his
kinsmen to marry a wife on his behalf. The sons of such a union
are legally the children of the dead man, and inherit social or
ritual privileges which he would normally pass on to his sons.
This custom of ghost-marriage is based on the feeling that a man
should not lie in his grave unremembered. He needs male off-
spring to whom he can make his wishes known in dreams, and if
his kinsmen fail in their duty to marry a wife for him, he may bring
evil upon them.
The parenthood of a “ghost-father” is most important in the
adult life of his sons. During their childhood they live with their
mother and her pro-husband in a union superficially indistin-
guishable from simple legal marriage. The pro-husband has legal
authority over the children and over the wife. This type of union
is almost as common as simple legal marriage, owing to the
number of men who die without male issue. In the past this was
largely due to casualties in tribal fighting. And though this has
now been prohibited by the administration, it is important to
note that the system of “ghost-marriage” tends to be self-per-
petuating. Thus, if a man who has married a wife for a dead
kinsman himself dies without marrying a wife of his own, that is, a
wife whose children would legally be his, the duty of marrying a
wife on his behalf devolves upon the sons whom he has begotten
physiologically, but who are legally the children of another man.
The types of kinsmen who normally marry a wife on behalf of a
dead man are his brothers, sons, brother’s sons and sister’s sons.
The latter type of union only occurs when the sister’s son has
obtained possession of his mother’s brother’s cattle, which may
pass to him for the specific purpose of contracting the ghost-
marriage in question. There is a definite rule that a man con-
tracting a ghost-marriage must not belong to a generation senior
to that of the dead man. Finally, it may be noted that a woman
may sometimes contract a ghost-marriage with another
158 social organization
woman on behalf of a dead kinsman . 1 The children of the second
woman, begotten by some extraneous man, are legally the off-
spring of the “female husband’s” dead kinsman.
The levirate is practised by the Nuer although a widow,
particularly if she has borne children, has a considerable amount
of freedom in her choice as to whether she will become the wife of
her dead husband’s brother or seek a partner elsewhere. In any
case, any children which she may subsequently bear are legally
the offspring of her dead husband. Leviritic marriage differs
from ghost-marriage, in that there is no transfer of cattle to her
kin, since this duty has already been carried out by the dead man.
The procreative services of a woman belong, not merely to the
man she actually marries, but to his group of near kin, who some-
times speak of her as “our wife”. The Nuer do not use the term
“marry” in connection with a leviritic union, but say that a man
“has provided his dead brother’s wife with a hut”. The pro-
husband has less control over the wife in a leviritic than in a
ghost-marriage, though if she commits adultery he can claim
compensation.
If the widow chooses to live with a stranger rather than with a
kinsman of her dead husband, the children born of the union are
still the legal offspring of the latter. While the union resembles
marriage so far as domestic and economic co-operation is con-
cerned, the man has no legal status in regard to either the woman
or her children. She may leave him at any time and he cannot
claim compensation for adultery. This type of union is described
as “widow concubinage”, since the man is not legally married to
the woman — he is not even the legal representative of the father of
her children, as is the pro-husband in leviritic and ghost-marriage.
The last type of union to be described is simple concubinage.
Owing to certain circumstances — a flighty disposition or parental
despotism in regard to marriage arrangements — some Nuer
women never marry. But such women usually live in association
with one or more men in a union which resembles normal
marriage so far as domestic life is concerned. There are, however,
no legal rights existing between the two partners in such a union.
1 The custom oJ woman marriage , whereby one woman becomes legally the “hus-
band” of another, who then has children by a cicisbeo, is not peculiar to the Nuer,
but is found sporadically in parts of Africa as far apart as the Transvaal and Dahomey.
In these cases the usual motive seems to be the desire of a barren woman to transmit
to offspring her own social and economic privileges. The social implications of the
practice are therefore different from those found among the Nuer.
THE FAMILY RECONSIDERED
159
Since readiness to live as an unmarried concubine often denotes a
restless disposition, the male partners of unmarried women are
not anxious to marry their concubines, though they are eager to
acquire legal paternity in regard to their children. This they can
do by payment of cattle as legitimatization fee. Such payments
differ from ordinary marriage cattle in two important respects :
they are given to the woman’s father only, and are not distributed
among her kin; and each payment legitimatizes one child only,
not all offspring of the union.
The status of unmarried concubines and their children is not
so high as that of wives, yet such women are often better treated
than wives, since a woman living in this relationship is more free
to leave her partner if he should prove unsatisfactory. On the
other hand, a concubine cannot expect support from her kinsmen
in the case of domestic disputes.
The actual incidence of the different types of union described
above may be judged by reference to Professor Evans-Pritchard’s
statement of the marital position of thirty- three women in a
typical Nuer village:
Union of
Total
Children
33 women
unions of
of
in 1936
33 women
32 women
Wives in simple legal marriage .
3
23
44
Female husbands .
1
1
Wives of female husbands
3
3
5
Wives in ghost-marriage .
5
5
6
Wives in leviritic marriage
2
4
12
Widow-concubines .
6
14
36
Unmarried concubines
3
5
3
Women living in adultery
1
3
Old women without mates
9
—
—
The first column shows the existing domestic condition of the
women concerned. The second column gives the different types
of union in which these women are known, at one time or
another, to have been partners. This corrects any distorted im-
pression which might be created by the first. It shows the pre-
ponderance of the union of marriage, and particularly of simple
legal marriage. Apart from the three unmarried concubines, all
the thirty-three women have at some time or other lived in some
form of marriage. In view of this, and of the custom of legitimat-
ization mentioned above, it follows that the vast majority of the
children have a legal father, living or dead.
160 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
How far does the Nuer material lead us to reformulate what
we have said about marriage and the family? The main difficulty
is to decide to which types of Nuer union or social unit these terms
should be applied. If we stress sexual and domestic association,
then we shall apply them to any type of existing domestic union
which is not socially disapproved. If we stress the transmission
from one generation to another of wealth, position and ritual
privilege, we shall emphasize the legal bonds uniting a man, a
woman and the woman’s children, even though they may never
have functioned as a biological or social unit. Though the
former is more in line with our analysis of the family, neither
usage is accurate, since among the Nuer the family as we know it
in our own society exists only in simple legal marriage. But the same
applies to other communities also — to matriliny and to other
instances of the levirate in which the dead brother is the legal
father of the children. Moreover, in many communities it is some-
times difficult to distinguish between legal marriage and other
types of union . 1
The difficulty is thus terminological rather than analytical.
Evans-Pritchard’s precise statement of what occurs among the
Nuer enables us to appreciate the human relationships which
actually exist. These are fundamentally not very different from
those prevailing elsewhere in human society. They are merely
more different from what we regard as the normal pattern of
family life — if indeed the latter concept could be clearly defined.
That social position among the Nuer should be transmitted by a
dead patrilineal relative rather than by the man who functions as
a father during the early years of childhood is no more surprising
than the fact that it is so transmitted by the mother’s brother
1 Thus, in Scotland at the present time, a legal marriage may be established by
“co-habitation with habit and repute”. Its validity may be proved “by the co-habita-
tion, or living together at bed and board, of a man and woman who are generally
reputed husband and wife” (Gloag and Henderson, Introduction to the Law of Scotland ,
Fourth Edition, 1946, p. 574), without any religious ceremony or formal secular
contract. The constitution of such a marriage is not affected by the fact that there may
have been no intention of marriage at the beginning of co-habitation. A somewhat
similar relationship, known as “common law marriage”, is legally recognized in twenty-
four states of the U.S.A., including New York State, and “notwithstanding criticism
levelled at such informal marriages, they have been expressly repudiated in very few
states ; and in many states such marriages have been held to survive even in the face of
elaborate regulations governing licensing and solemnization of marriages” (Information
from Vernier, American Family Laws , Volume I, Section 26, communicated by Professor
A. L. Goodhart). In the Scottish example, apart from the cases which have actually
been disputed in the courts, it would be impossible to say at what point of time
any given union changes from a liaison into a marriage, and children of the union
automatically become legitimate.
THE FAMILY RECONSIDERED 161
under matriliny. Domestic units are unstable, though for different
reasons, in Hollywood as in Nuerland. And various types of
irregular union are no more a negation of the principles of family
life in the Sudan than they are in Bloomsbury or Greenwich
Village.
g. Conclusion
We have attempted in this chapter to give an indication of the
major principles governing kinship organization in primitive
society. These have been deliberately stated in a simple form in
order to stress their nature and significance as organizing factors
in primitive culture. But such simple formulations to some extent
distort the reality of native life. There is a danger that the reader
may gain a too rigid conception of how the rules governing kin-
ship actually operate. To guard against this, four important
points must be stressed:
1. The operation of principles founded on kinship is con-
stantly modified by such other principles as those based on
residence, rank and economic organization.
2. The incidence and degree of operation of these principles
varies greatly from one society to another, for example, such
a practice as patrilocal marriage ranges from a rigidly
enforced rule to a situation where there is nothing but a
general tendency for women to join their husband’s groups
at marriage, no pressure being brought to bear to force
them to do so. Between these two extremes are a series of
gradations in which patrilocal marriage is more or less
customary, though matrilocal marriages sometimes occur,
as we shall see to be the case in Wogeo. Similarly, principles
which we have stated in connection with the prohibition of
incest and the rules of exogamy vary from rigid proscription
enforced by drastic legal or supernatural sanctions to a mere
feeling that certain types of union are undesirable.
3. Even where certain clearly defined rules exist, they are
constantly modified in the light of individual circumstances,
such as rank, economic position, ritual privilege, popularity
and other factors affecting the personal situation of a man or
woman. A chief or priest may be able to “get away with”
conduct which would be punished in the case of a commoner
or layman, or alternatively may be expected to observe the
social code more meticulously. A man of wealth may be
162
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
accorded privileges denied to poorer folk, but on the other
hand is usually expected to be more lavish in discharging the
economic obligations of kinship. A popular man may suc-
ceed in evading punishment for breaches of social custom,
while a “bad lot” is sometimes heavily penalized for what
we might term a technical offence. Personal hardship may
also modify the rigid operation of kinship rules, as when an
unmarried man is allowed to contract a marriage which
breaks the rule of exogamy, when similar conduct would be
severely condemned in the case of a man who already had
several wives.
4. Finally, strength of individual character often means that
certain individuals are prepared to risk the social conse-
quences of evasion or breach of custom, and are sometimes
successful in doing so.
A few examples of the operation of these modifying factors have
been given and others will occur in subsequent pages, particularly
in our discussion of primitive law. These will to some extent
correct the somewhat rigid conception of social organization
which may at times have been conveyed in this chapter. But the
way in which the principles which we have enunciated actually
work can only be defined with reference to each primitive com-
munity specifically, and correct impression of their incidence and
operation can only be acquired by a further reading of good
ethnographic records.
10. Bibliographical Commentary
The definition of social structure given at the beginning of this
chapter may strike some anthropologists as an unjustifiable at-
tempt to reconcile two different interpretations of the term. For
a theoretical discussion of the problem, see Radcliffe-Brown (6).
There is no really adequate review of the phenomena of social
organization in primitive society. Rivers (2) provides some useful
discussions of terminology, but is written in the light of theoretical
interpretations and ethnographic material which cannot be re-
garded as tenable and reliable today. Lowie (1) is largely con-
cerned with criticism of Morgan’s theory of social origins. This
theory cannot be taken seriously in the light of modern research,
and it should not be necessary for the reader to follow the ingeni-
ous arguments by which Lowie disposes of Morgan’s evolutionary
guesswork. The main value of Lowie’s work is to be found in the
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL COMMENTARY 163
light which it casts on the variety and complex interlocking of
different types of social grouping in primitive society.
As stated at the end of Section 9, the best approach to the
problem of social organization is through modern ethnographic
records, particularly those dealing specifically with kinship.
Some of these are mentioned in the bibliography. The fullest and
most enlightening discussion of the place of kinship in a primitive
culture is undoubtedly Firth (8). Valuable discussions of prob-
lems connected with kinship are contained in Deacon (1), Fei
(1) , Hoernle (2), Hunter (2), Nadel (4), Raum (2) and Richards
(2) . A brilliant analysis of structural relationships founded on
kinship is contained in Fortes (3), but the beginner will probably
find this work somewhat difficult to follow.
Fuller statements on the material presented in this chapter on
kinship among the Maori, Yako and Nuer will be found in Firth
(5), Forde (4) and Evans-Pritchard (5).
The relationships between the individual bonds within the
family and wider kinship extensions are discussed in Malinowski
(6 and 7) and, with special relationship to the place of sex in
social life, in Malinowski (4). Some of the implications of the
ignorance of physiological paternity among the Australian
aborigines are discussed in Ashley-Montagu (1). There is a vast
amount of material, mainly published in the journal Oceania , on
Australian kinship. For the first systematic account upon which
subsequent research on kinship in Australia has been founded,
we are indebted to Radcliffe-Brown (2). An excellent example of'
the application of this approach to the kinship system of an
Australian tribe is Warner (1). Finally, as an illustration of the
principles stated in Section 9, reference should be made to
Kaberry (1) to correct any exaggerated impression of the rigidity
of Australian kinship which might be gained from writings which
are primarily concerned with its more formal aspects.
CHAPTER V
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION ( Continued )
/. Local Grouping
In considering any primitive people, it is important to know how
they are distributed in local groups over the territory which they
occupy. This is termed their local organization. It varies greatly
from one community to another; it reflects the adjustment to
geographical environment; and it affects, and is affected by, the
character of social institutions.
The largest unit of* social organization usually recognized in
social anthropology is the tribe, a term which is somewhat loosely
employed. We may define a tribe as a group of people speaking a
common dialect, inhabiting a common territory and displaying
a certain homogeneity in their culture. The tribe is never exogam-
ous; in fact, its members marry fellow-members more often than
they marry outsiders. The tribe is not primarily or usually a kin-
ship group, but in certain cases all members of a tribe claim
descent from a common ancestor.
The tribe is frequently a political unit for purposes of the
internal administration of justice and external relations, such as
the prosecution of war. It will be noted that this is not essential
according to our definition, nor is the actual numerical strength
of the group concerned. Thus the Ibo tribe of south-eastern
Nigeria numbers approximately four million people, who have no
centralized political authority, being bound together merely by
the fact that they share a common language, territory and culture.
The latter part of this statement is also true of the very much
smaller Australian tribe. An approximate estimate, which is little
more than a guess, puts the size of the average Australian tribe
in 1788 at about one thousand individuals, though some were
considerably smaller. Nowadays, depopulation has rendered
many Australian tribes extinct, while of others only a handful
remain.
As we have said, the term “tribe” is loosely employed, and this
is to some extent unavoidable. For one thing, it is impossible to
164
LOCAL GROUPING
165
say exactly what is meant by cultural homogeneity. Most large
tribes exhibit cultural variations from one area to another, and in
politically organized tribes some measure of political authority is
usually delegated to smaller component units. It is often doubtful
whether such units should be regarded as sub-tribes or as tribes
in their own right. Sometimes the criteria of territorial, linguistic
and cultural unity do not coincide. Thus the Nupe people of
Central Nigeria are composed of several groups having marked
variations in culture and dialect, but these cannot be regarded as
distinct tribes, since they overlap and intermingle territorially,
and moreover, their members have a sense of unity extending
beyond the bounds of their particular sub-groups — they all speak
of themselves as “Nupe”, as distinct from neighbouring peoples
who speak practically the same language but are regarded as
merely “relatives”.
Whatever the size and territorial extent of the tribe, it is always
subdivided into smaller groups based on neighbourhood, known
as local groups or residential aggregates. Such groups inhabit the same
or adjoining dwellings, co-operate in economic activities and are
usually bound together by ties of kinship. The size of such group-
ings again varies very greatly, particularly in relation to type of
economy. Thus hunters and food-gatherers are usually nomadic, 1
and their settlements are therefore rude and temporary shelters of
no very great extent, as we see among the Australians, Semang
and Bushmen. Only where natural resources are exceptionally
plentiful can a hunting and food-gathering economy support
permanent villages, but this occurs among the Haida and other
tribes of the North-West Coast.
Pastoral peoples also tend to be nomadic, and their settlements
are therefore often found to consist of temporary or light movable
habitations. Only where pastoralism is combined with agri-
culture do we normally find permanent or semi-permanent
villages, surrounded by common pastures and agricultural land,
as among the Nyakyusa (Fig. 19, p. 302).
The nomadism of hunters and food-gatherers and also of
pastoralists is frequently seasonal, as we have seen to be the case
among the Eskimo, the Kazaks and the Tungus.
Among peoples who are exclusively or primarily cultivators we
1 Or more correctly semi-nomadic. The small hunting bands which form the
economic units of such societies do not wander indiscriminately, but over defined areas
of territory. In Australia this practice is sanctified by mythology and magico-religious
ritual.
PLATE IV
16 ( 5 ]
PONDO IA1I&
LOCAL GROUPING 167
The size of the buildings in which members of a local group
reside is also variable. In many polygynous societies each wife
has her own hut, the husband residing with or visiting each wife
in turn. Sometimes a polygynous household shares a common
habitation, a defined area of which is assigned to each wife. In
other communities a single building sometimes houses the whole
of a local group, as in the Long House of the Iroquois. Similar
structures are common in Malaysia, for example, in parts of the
Philippines there are buildings of hardwood timber measuring
up to 400 yards in length. One or two of these accommodate the
whole population of a village. As with the Iroquois, they have a
central corridor, flanked by separate compartments for individual
families.
We have mentioned only a few of the many types of local
grouping found among primitive peoples. The real importance
of such groups lies, not in mere demographic or cartographic
description, but in the study of the relation of local grouping to
social institutions. Thus, if we compare two types of Melanesian
village, one from the Trobriand Islands and the other from
Wogeo, we can discern at once the relation of village-plan to
political and economic organization. In Omarakana (Fig. 14) we
see the chief’s hut, and even more important his yam house,
dominating the scene, while in Wogeo (Fig. 17, p. 291) it is the
niabwa which is the most imposing structure and is the central
feature (both topographically and socially) of the village. The
significance of this comparison will be obvious from the socio-
logical data from the two communities given elsewhere in this
book.
Among the institutions which often affect the local grouping of
a people, one of the most important is warfare. The need for
defence against attack has often led to the construction of more
or less inaccessible settlements. Thus the Maori had two types of
village, the ordinary unfortified village ( kaingo ) 1 and the hill
fort, or pa. The latter type of settlement, which was virtually
confined to the North Island, was usually built upon a hill or
ridge, or was protected on one or more sides by a cliff, a stream or
the sea. Though the selection of a site for a pa was determined
primarily by the need for defence, the proximity of economic
resources — fertile agricultural land or fishing grounds — was also
taken into consideration. The natural defences of the pa were
1 This is the only type of Maori village found in New Zealand today.
B.A.1—13
n Q
1 68
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
supplemented by artificial fortifications, such as earthworks
and stockades built of heavy timber. The pa was not merely
a temporary refuge, but was the permanent residence of
members of the village, the sections occupied by its component
families being frequently partitioned off from each other. In
Burial Ground
a
B3
Q
c
c?
Chiefs Hut
c?
o
Fig. 14.— Plan of Omarakana
addition to dwellings, there were storage huts, particularly
important in time of siege, while the whole village was
dominated by a sort of citadel, composed of the houses of the
chief and his principal relatives. Thus the structure of the Maori
pa was not only based on the need for defence — it was related
to the other activities of the people, domestic, economic and
political.
□ □□□ □□ rj
A Iil.MHA Vir.I-AOK
1681
SEX GROUPING
169
2. Sex Grouping and the Place of Women in Primitive Society
In all cultures the biological differences between men and
women imply differences in their respective social roles, but the
precise character and degree of such differentiation are largely
variable.
The most important difference, which all cultures must re-
cognize, lies in their respective physiological roles in the produc-
tion and rearing of children. But this generally leads to certain
secondary forms of differentiation, of which the most important
is the sexual division of labour. Very broadly, there is a tendency
to allocate dangerous tasks and those requiring strenuous and
concentrated physical effort for comparatively short periods to
men, while relatively safe work, which calls for more prolonged
but less concentrated effort, is usually the province of women. A
good example of this contrast is to be found in the fishing of
Oceanic communities. Deep-sea fishing, with its intermittent
demands for violent physical effort, is the work of men, some-
times sanctioned by taboos on women embarking in sea-going
canoes; on the other hand, fishing from the shore and the gather-
ing of sea food from lagoons and rock pools tend to be the work
of women. Again, among the Australian aborigines the men do
the hunting while women gather edible plants, fish, or collect
goannas and other small game. Hunting an emu or kangaroo
with dogs makes heavy demands on physical stamina, as the
author can testify, while collecting oysters or digging up ants calls
for patient periods of prolonged effort which is never very strenu-
ous and can be interrupted at any time . 1
In the last sentence we have the clue to this feature of the
sexual division of labour. Most women become pregnant on one
or more occasions during their lives, and are subsequently en-
cumbered with young children who are dependent on them for
nourishment and attention. Consequently, their work is such as
is not jeopardized by these necessary biological responsibilities.
Similar observations apply most forcibly to warfare. This is,
indirectly, an important aspect of economic life in those agri-
cultural and pastoral communities who are constantly subject to
raids by other groups seeking to acquire land or cattle, or who
1 The same considerations apply to the carrying of burdens. When an aborigine
group is on the move, most of their scanty baggage is carried by the women, since the
men must not be encumbered in making their specific contribution to the food supply.
170 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
themselves subsist by such activities. Thus, among the Bedouins
and many Hamitic and Bantu peoples, the men must always be
ready to repel attack, or alternatively to be absent for some time
on aggressive enterprises. Therefore in such communities we find
that most of the “work”, in the limited sense, is done by women,
a situation which often calls forth the contempt or condemnation
of Europeans with whose traditions of chivalry it is inconsistent.
But chivalry is a matter of minor importance when survival itself
is at stake . 1
The above explanation does not account for all differences in
the sexual division of labour. Thus, it is hard to see why the
making of pottery should in some communities be done exclus-
ively by men, whereas in others it is the province of women.
Again, the respective magico-rcligious functions of men and
women are defined in various ways by different communities.
Whether one or other sex participates in, or is excluded from,
specific forms of religious or magical ritual cannot be explained
in biological terms. It can only be interpreted in terms of the
particular cultural institutions and values of the community
concerned.
What we have said about warfare is also true, though to a lesser
extent, of the exercise of political power which, it may be noted,
is often identical with leadership in war. Only very rarely do we
find women actually exercising administrative functions, although,
as among the Bemba, Ganda and the aristocratic cultures of
Polynesia, we often find specific relatives of the chief — mother,
sister or Great Wife — occupying a privileged ceremonial position.
Such women, particularly if they have strong personalities, can
often exert a considerable influence on social life. The unusually
active part played by women in tribal affairs among the Iroquois
has already been mentioned, but it must again be emphasized
that this is quite exceptional. Normally, women play little or no
part in political affairs, nor do they usually display any inclina-
tion to do so.
When we come to the magico-religious sphere, the data are
less consistent. In Australia women are rigidly excluded from the
1 An interesting sidelight on what has been said is cast by the quite exceptional
organization of “Amazons*’ in Dahomey. These were a cadre of specially selected and
trained women who fought fiercely in battle, and in peace-time administered the
women of the king’s household. They did not, however, form part of his harem, and
were rigorously segregated from men at all times. This reflects the inconsistency
between military duties and the biological responsibilities of women.
SEX GROUPING
171
sacred ceremonial of the men, though they carry out other less
spectacular rites of their own. In Melanesia, too, we usually find
that women play no part in the more important magico-religious
ceremonies, which are the exclusive province of the men. Among
Amerindian tribes, on the other hand, the situation is quite
different. Thus, membership of the important Tobacco Society
of the Crow was open to both sexes, and women feature at least as
conspicuously as men. In many American tribes we find both
male and female shamans, and even where men occupy a domin-
ant position in religious ceremonial, women also have their own
religious societies and carry out forms of ceremonial peculiar to
them. Much the same situation exists in many parts of Africa, for
example in Sierra Leone, where the men’s society (poro) finds its
counterpart in the women’s association ( bundu ), each sex being
excluded from participation in the ceremonial activities of the
other.
To sum up, wc may say that generally men play a more im-
portant part in magico-religious ceremonial than women, but
this is frequently offset by the admission of women on equal terms
to religious organizations, or alternatively by a definition of
different types of religious ceremonial as appropriate to each sex,
even though that of the women may be less spectacular than that
of the men.
Though it will be apparent that it is highly dangerous to
generalize about the position of women in primitive societies,
something must be said on the subject, because of the many
misinterpretations which have been put forward. At one extreme
is the view that women occupy, or once occupied, the dominant
position associated with the term “matriarchate”, a conception
which nobody would seriously defend today. But the contrary
view that women in primitive society occupy an utterly degraded
and menial position, being regarded as mere chattels, is still fre-
quently put forward. Here it is important to distinguish between
theory and practice. In terms of explicitly formulated legal rules,
it is true that women often appear to occupy a subordinate posi-
tion. But as we shall see, this is offset by other considerations.
The view that women occupy a degraded position in primitive
society is often supported by superficial observations and spurious
arguments. Those connected with bride-price and the sexual
division of labour we have already mentioned. In addition, it is
often pointed out that marriages are often arranged by relatives,
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
172
sometimes during the infancy of the parties concerned, and that
kinsfolk often bring pressure to bear to maintain a marriage
against a woman’s will. This is said to imply that the woman
is therefore a mere pawn in a game determined by motives of
greed and ambition.
In the first place it must be noted that such restrictions on
individual liberty affect men as well as women. And even if it be
admitted that they operate differentially to the detriment of the
latter, there are still certain important considerations to be taken
into account, considerations which affect the more general
question of the place of the individual in primitive society.
The question of individual choice in marriage is one on which
much confusion has arisen. In some primitive societies courtship
is by individual choice, though perhaps restricted by such in-
fluences as the wishes of relatives and considerations of rank, as
it is to some extent among ourselves. Even where marriage is said
to be “arranged by the relatives”, the arrangements are often
influenced by the wishes of the parties concerned. Furthermore,
owing to the homogeneity of cultural standards, the advantages
of a particular choice made by relatives are likely to be the same
as those valued by the parties concerned; in particular, indus-
triousness and proficiency in the day-to-day work appropriate to
the sex concerned. The social value attached to this was reflected
by the derisive songs sung by young people of each sex against
the other among the Maori:
“ Who will marry a man
Too lazy to till the ground for food? . .
“ Who will marry the woman
Too lazy to weave garments?”
Such practical considerations receive, in general, more attention
in primitive society than “personality”. Marriage is more practical
and less “romantic” among primitive peoples than among our-
selves. It might be said, very generally, that in our ideology of
marriage, two people come to love each other first and then
marry, whereas the primitive conception reverses the order.
Thus, when Dr. Richards, working among the Bemba, asked
about a newly married man: “Is X very fond of his bride?” her
informant replied, with some surprise: “How can he be fond of
SEX GROUPING 173
ner? How can he know what her heart is like until they have
grown old together ?”
This does not imply that genuine affection is absent from
primitive marriage. On the contrary, the field-worker is con-
stantly brought face to face with examples of it, particularly in
times of crisis such as illness or death. The personal feeling be-
tween husband and wife is no less real because it is not surrounded
by an aura of romantic conceptions peculiar to civilized society,
and is often obscured by customary restrictions, restraints and
taboos on its public expression.
Although the more homogeneous pattern of social values found
in primitive society gives less scope for the development of person-
ality, it also minimizes the sexual and personal maladjustments
which, in our own society, provide a living for novelists, play-
wrights, psychiatrists and divorce-court lawyers. Marriages
arranged by relatives tend to be accepted by the parties directly
concerned as a matter of course. In particular, in the case of
infant betrothal, each party has grown up from infancy regarding
the other as his or her destined mate, in a community which
regards infant betrothal as the right and proper avenue to
marriage. In the majority of cases the individuals concerned
would no more think of objecting than we would think of pro-
testing because we were not given a choice of parents, brothers or
sisters.
The important part played by kinsfolk after, as well as before,
marriage has also advantages and disadvantages so far as both
men and women are concerned, but the general effect of its
operation is probably beneficial. It serves as an important
mechanism of validation for the rights of individuals. A partner
who is badly treated can rely on the support, moral and practical,
of a whole cadre of kinsfolk ; while the partner who is in the wrong
can usually expect, at best, tepid sympathy and grudging assis-
tance, since by failing to discharge the obligations of marriage,
he or she has ruptured a number of social and economic relation-
ships in which his or her kinsfolk are directly involved.
But the influence of kinsfolk is by no means the only stabilizing
factor in primitive marriage. Because of the importance of public
opinion in primitive societies, the attitude of neighbours and
society at large has an important influence. Last, but by no means
least, is the system of reciprocity between husband and wife — the
obligations connected with economic production, domestic duties
i 7 4 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
and conjugal rights. As with other systems of reciprocity, failure
to honour obligations may lead to direct retaliation in the refusal
of the wronged partner to discharge some of his or her obligations,
leading in extreme cases to a complete rupture of the marriage
bond.
Formal statements regarding the rights of individuals, and of
women in particular, must be considered against the background
of these complementary and interlocking factors in primitive
marriage. The operation of these factors in a specific tribe is
described elsewhere (p. 304). The important thing to recognize
is that they affect both partners in the relationship and are essen-
tial to the satisfactory functioning of the family as a social
institution.
The widespread practice of polygyny has often been cited as an
example ef female inferiority. But it is certainly not felt as such by
native women. Polygynous households generally run fairly
smoothly, at least more so than we would expect them to do,
because the rights and obligations of the various parties concerned
are socially recognized. The satisfactory working of a polygynous
household is greatly facilitated where, as very commonly, the
wives arc sisters to each other. But we must not build up an idyllic
picture of polygynous marriage. In spite of all that has been said,
quarrels and clashes of interests between co-wives are far from
uncommon, and produce from time to time both social disruption
and individual unhappiness. This, however, is at least partially
offset by the fact that, broadly speaking, no marriageable woman
is ever without a helpmate or an opportunity to raise a family.
Furthermore, in a number of cases, co-operation and even
genuine affection exist between co-wives, while sometimes a
woman will actually ask her husband to take another wife in order
to lighten her domestic and economic tasks.
The above considerations should lead us to examine very care-
fully any data brought forward as evidence of female inferiority
in primitive society. Though their social role is in general less
spectacular than that of the opposite sex, women have their own
“spheres of influence 55 , from which they derive satisfactions and
rights which are definitely validated in social custom and usage.
While it would be rash to make any general statement as to
whether women are happier or more contented than under civil-
ized conditions, it is absurd to speak of their “degradation 55 in
primitive society generally.
SEX GROUPING
*75
We mentioned at the outset that the physiological differences
between men and women are recognized by all cultures. Such
recognition is expressed in differences in dress and ornament, as
well as in the specialized roles of the two sexes in social, economic
and ceremonial life. But these roles are not always and for all
individuals defined in terms of physiological differences. We have
already mentioned the African examples of “woman marriage”,
in which a woman undertakes socially the role of a man. Several
Amerindian tribes provide us with examples of an analogous
social process whereby certain men assume the social position of
women. Under this practice, termed berdache by the early French
travellers, a boy or young man might assume the clothes and
occupations of a woman, sometimes becoming married to and liv-
ing with another man. The berdache was frequently regarded as
exceptionally able and often achieved a fortunate position in
religious and economic affairs. Thus the Dakota would praise a
woman’s household possessions by comparing them with those of
a berdache .
The place of homosexuality in such cases of changes of sex is
difficult to state, particularly in view of the reticence of the early
observers and their readiness to express disgust rather than to
investigate the matter thoroughly. It is clear that many if not
most of the berdaches were either homosexuals or persons of in-
adequate sexual endowment. On the other hand, the social and
economic advantages must not be forgotten. In the African
examples of woman marriage, as we have seen, these are the
dominant factor, though it is possible that the social practices some-
times provide an outlet for the emotions of homosexual women.
3. Age Groups , Initiation Ceremonies and Primitive Education
As with sex differences, so the physiological differences between
individuals of different ages are recognized in all cultures by
variations in dress, prescribed behaviour patterns and differential
social status. In most, though not all, primitive societies there are
also initiation ceremonies, which mark stages of growth,
particularly the transition from childhood to adult life . 1 In con-
1 In addition to these ceremonies, which have been termed ceremonies of general
initiation , there are also rites of specific initiation which introduce individuals to secret
societies, priesthoods, trade guilds and other specialized groups within a community.
The latter rites are far less common than rites of general initiation. Usually they
display formal characteristics (the infliction of pain or physical discomfort, secrecy and
the observation of taboos) similar to those which we shall mention in connection with
ceremonies of general initiation.
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
176
formity with the less spectacular place of women in ceremonial
life, such ceremonies for males are far more common, and usually
more elaborate, than corresponding rites for females. In some
communities initiation consists of a single simple rite or sequence
of rites taking place usually at or about puberty. In other cultures
the stages of individual growth are marked by an intermittent
series of rites covering a considerable span of the life-cycle of the
individual, as we have seen among the Karadjcri. In many
African tribes, gradations of age are even more highly institution-
alized, and we find the male population divided into a series of
age-grades . 1 These consist of a number of males of approximately
the same age who undergo initiation at the same time and form
groups having specific rights and duties. The best-known example
comes from the Masai, where adolescent youths undergo a period
of initiation, which includes circumcision by special operators of
the Dorobo tribe. At intervals of about ten years or more, all such
youths have their heads shaved at the same time, and this admits
them into the class of warriors, where they form a special “age
regiment” having a specific name. The members of such a group
fight, camp and perform ceremonies together, and they also owe
obligations of help and hospitality towards each other. Promotion
in, and retirement from, the warrior class is determined by a com-
plicated set of rules. When members retire from this class and
become elders, membership of their age-group still affects their
social status. The Nuer have a similar system of age-grades, but
these have no corporate activities and lack the military and cere-
monial functions of those of the Masai. They are primarily a
means of establishing relative seniority between male members
of the tribe, and in this way determine their relationships to each
other in social and ceremonial affairs. Other types of age-grade
occur elsewhere in Africa, among certain Amerindian tribes and
in parts of Melanesia. In the latter area they shade off into secret
societies (Section 6) based on voluntary membership and the pay-
ment of membership fees.
Initiation ceremonies, whether single or multiple, whether
correlated with age-grades or not, display certain common
characteristics among primitive peoples in all parts of the world,
though among specific peoples some of them may be absent. A
well-nigh universal feature is the subjection of the novice to some
form of painful ordeal or physical discomfort. This is frequently
1 Also called age-sets or age-classes .
AGE GROUPS, INITIATION AND EDUCATION 177
regarded as a test of his manhood, and he is required to bear pain
and discomfort with fortitude. Sometimes the ordeals are transi-
tory, consisting of such trials as whipping, being choked by smoke,
or bathing in ice-cold water. More frequently they are such as to
leave a permanent mark — thus, among the Nuer, boys are initiated
by cutting the flesh of the forehead to the bone, thus making six
horizontal scars, extending from ear to ear, which are plainly
visible for the remainder of the individual’s lifetime. Elsewhere in
Africa, and in other parts of the world, deep cuts are made in the
flesh of the body, usually according to some culturally defined
pattern, and ashes or other foreign substances arc rubbed into
the wounds so as to produce protuberant weals . 1 But by far the
most common form of marking at initiation is that resulting from
circumcision. This operation is sometimes confused with the less
common practice of subincision (slitting the urethra ), 2 and an
operation which consists of making a longitudinal slit in the upper
surface of the prepuce and which is variously known as incision ,
supercision and super incision. The latter is the physical ordeal con-
nected with initiation in Tikopia and certain other Polynesian
societies, while subincision is practised by many Australian tribes
in addition to the more common rite of circumcision.
The widespread occurrence of circumcision in areas as widely
separated as East Africa and Australia probably depends upon
the fact that, since it modifies the shape of the male genitalia, it
is one which is particularly well suited to mark off the initiate
both from women and from uninitiated boys. But this explanation
must not be pressed too far. Circumcision is merely one of the
ordeals of initiation which vary widely from one community to
another. Even in a fairly homogeneous cultural area such as
Australia, we find not only circumcision and subincision but also
the knocking out of a front tooth, cicatrization, the tying of tight
ligatures around the arms and the plucking out of hairs from the
face and body practised as part of initiation ritual. The character
of the ordeal to which the initiate is subjected varies from tribe to
tribe, and sometimes we find two or more co-existing in the same
area, as among the Karadjeri.
The painful character of primitive initiation ceremonies has
often aroused the sympathy or indignation of European observers.
1 This custom, known as cicatrization, is sometimes carried out for purely aesthetic
reasons, and does not form part of the ritual of initiation.
1 The attribution of a contraceptive purpose to this operation is entirely erroneous.
1 78 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
Undoubtedly the ordeals are often extremely trying, but it is
probably true that the sensitivity to pain of primitive peoples is
less than among ourselves, not of course owing to any biological
differences, but as a result of the relatively low social value
attached to pain in primitive society. It is impossible to support
this statement by reliable evidence, but field-workers who have
administered first-aid to natives, and who have observed their
reaction to painful ordeals, have been impressed by the stoicism
which they display. Furthermore, in the case of the initiates, the
pain experienced is largely offset by the social advantages and
prestige which it confers on them, and they arc usually willing
and even eager to undergo the ordeals of initiation prescribed by
their culture. 1
In addition to trying ordeals, initiation ceremonies often in-
clude a systematic teasing of the novice, reminiscent of “ragging”
in schools or colleges. The novice is usually secluded from social
life for a time, and sometimes this is metaphorically expressed as
death and rebirth — the initiators say that they will take the
novice away from the womenfolk and kill him. Of course every-
body knows that this is a fiction, and that the person who returns
after initiation is the same individual as before. But in a social
sense he has died and been re-born, since he has ceased to exist
as a child and has become a man. In addition to seclusion, the
novice is usually forced to observe taboos on eating and other
types of social activity.
A prominent feature of initiation ceremonies is the part played
in them by the kinsfolk of the novice. These often mutilate them-
selves, weep and play specific roles in the prescribed ritual. In
many communities such ceremonies are among the most spectacu-
lar ways in which kinship bonds are expressed.
Initiation ceremonies usually have an important magico-
religious background, consisting generally of a myth or cycle of
myths telling of the institution of the ceremonies by some legend-
ary figure in the distant past. Often the ritual re-enacts the
dramatic episodes recounted in the mythology. This aura of
sanctity which surrounds initiation ceremonial, and the spectacu-
lar character of the rites, serve to impress upon novice and upon
1 We have said initiation rites for females are less widespread and less spectacular
than those for males. They are also in general less trying, and consist for the most part
of a temporary seclusion or the observation of certain taboos connected with the first
menstruation. But in parts of Africa a rite known as clitoridectomy or “female circum-
cision” is practised in connection with the initiation of women.
AGE GROUPS, INITIATION AND EDUCATION 179
the community at large the significance of the change from
childhood to adult status.
Initiation is often accompanied by instruction of the novice in
the secret lore of the ceremonies, and also the obligations of tribal
morality, particularly those connected with respect for elders and
with sexual behaviour. For this reason they have often been
described as a primitive form of education, but this statement
requires qualification. Apart from its secret aspect, the instruction
given generally concerns rules which are already known to the
novice, and its importance lies, not so much in its content, as in
the impressive circumstances under which it is given. It hardly
ever includes matters of practical knowledge and technical skill.
A knowledge of these is gained in the more mundane context of
day-to-day life. As this process is apt to be obscured by the more
spectacular character of initiation ceremonies, we must now turn
to the more general subject of primitive education, in which
initiation plays only a limited and specific part.
Education, as the anthropologist understands it, is a very much
wider process than anything corresponding to “schooling” in
our own community. It covers all the cultural influences which
are brought to bear upon the individual during the early years of
his life, and by which the helpless and immature infant eventually
becomes an adult member of the community equipped with all
the knowledge, skill and social sentiments which membership of
that community entails. The process of education thus defined
may be considered from two points of view — the sociological and
the psychological. The sociological function of education, that is,
the part it plays in the life of the community, is to transmit cul-
tural equipment, knowledge, skills, values and sentiments from
one generation to the next. Its psychological function, that is, its
effect upon each member of the community, is to mould the
growing individual in accordance with the cultural standards to
which he is heir. These are, of course, merely different aspects of a
unitary cultural process.
Education in primitive society, though its actual operation
varies greatly from one culture to another, contrasts in a marked
way with the corresponding system in civilized communities in
regard to (1) methods, (2) personnel, (3) content and (4) the
motives and attitudes underlying the educational process. We
shall consider these four aspects of primitive education in turn.
1. In regard to the methods of education, those of primitive
i8o
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
peoples are characterized by the fact that the training of children
tends to be a by-product of other activities rather than a special-
ized cultural process, and is effected by the progressive participa-
tion of the growing individual in adult pursuits. Thus a small boy
will watch his father and other male relatives making a canoe, and
will play about with adzes and other tools, being from time to
time advised and corrected by his elders. At length, by a series of
such acts of imitation of, or participation in, the technical
activity concerned, he finally becomes a skilled craftsman. Here
the activity of building a series of canoes is determined by the
economic needs of the community at large and is not consciously
directed to the education of children, though it achieves this result
incidentally. It follows from this that education in primitive
society differs from our own in that it lacks in general the distinc-
tion between informal education, for example that which occurs
in the home, and formal education at a school, technical college
or university. Where specifically educational institutions exist in
primitive society, they are generally limited to certain highly
specialized crafts, to the esoteric spheres of magic and religion,
and to the limited types of instruction mentioned above in connec-
tion with initiation ceremonies.
Most of what a child learns in primitive society is acquired in a
context of real as opposed to artificial training situations; that is to
say, it does not occur in situations specially designed for educa-
tional purposes. It follows that there exists in primitive education
a temporal and local continuity in the educational process. A
child learns in or near the village, in the fields, or by accompany-
ing adults on hunting or fishing expeditions. These are carried
out at places and at times determined by the needs of the com-
munity, their geographical environment and their specific types
of economy. Such a process contrasts with our own procedure of
setting aside special times and places for lessons. In the same way
knowledge acquired in the educational process is not divided into
compartments or “subjects” independently taught. Because a
child learns by progressive participation in adult activities, the
selection of activities to be learned is largely determined by the
child’s own inclinations, and what is learned is not conceived by
adults or by children as belonging to distinct compartments of
knowledge.
It follows that our own distinction between play and education
is difficult to draw in the case of primitive communities. As we
AGE GROUPS. INITIATION AND EDUCATION 181
know, play is biologically and psychologically a preparation for
adult life, and this is more marked in primitive society where the
play of children may more often be regarded as adult institutions
in embryo. For example, when a boy uses artefacts such as a hoe
made for him by his father, it is sometimes difficult to say whether
the object concerned should be called a toy or a tool. For obvious
reasons it is made on a smaller scale than its adult counterpart,
but it is nevertheless adequate to achieve practical and useful
results on a small scale. This is not in general true of the toys of our
own children.
In many primitive communities play forms part of, or is carried
on side by side with, responsible tasks. Among the Chaga, for
example, young boys when tending cattle organize themselves
into play groups, elect one of their number as “Chief of the
Pasture”, and carry out battles in imitation of the adult institution
of warfare. The play of such children is thus integrally linked
with the essential economic activity of caring for the herds.
Children’s play, like their more serious tasks, is taken over directly
from the adult world rather than being a set of artificial situations
specially arranged by adults for children.
There is, in primitive education generally, no punishment for
incompetence or backwardness, success or failure providing the
necessary sanctions. But discipline in matters of social custom
forms part of many primitive educational systems, although its
severity or laxity is very variable. Thus in Samoa we find that
adults allow a considerable amount of latitude to children, while
in other communities, such as the Chaga, correct behaviour is
enforced by strict discipline, including severe forms of physical
punishment. As regards the latter, its incidence in primitive society
has been greatly under-estimated in ethnographic records. It is
true that in a few primitive societies physical punishment is never
inflicted upon children. But in most it definitely occurs, even in
cases where its occurrence is denied in superficial ethnographic
records. As Dr. Raum has pointed out, such denials are likely to
arise, because primitive peoples, like ourselves, refrain from
punishing their children in the presence of strangers, a category
to which many of the early ethnographers definitely belonged.
As regards the infliction of physical punishment, however,
there is a very important distinction in the spirit in which it is
administered. Primitive peoples would agree with Bernard
Shaw’s saying that a child should never be punished except in
i 82
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
anger. Hogbin records an instance of a man building a hut while
his small son played nearby. The child persisted, after several
warnings, in untidying a neat pile of thatching which the father
had arranged. Finally, the father struck the child with the words,
“You interfere with me, I interfere with you”. This, it will be
seen, represents an entirely different idea from that of “punishing
a child for its own good”. It emphasizes, not an abstract moral
code, but the principle of reciprocity, the importance of which in
primitive morality will become apparent later. To this it must be
added that training in the observation of taboos is often a dis-
ciplinary matter, but also differs from our own conceptions of
moral education. It is largely a matter of protecting the child
from putative dangers of a practical kind, rather than “character
training”.
2. Personnel . — The personal agents in the primitive educational
process are primarily kinsfolk and neighbours, and also older play-
mates who often take charge of younger children. This contrasts
with our own system, in that there is in general a lack of pro-
fessional teachers who are otherwise strangers to the children and
who may have no social relations with them outside the class-
room. This aspect of primitive education is correlated with the
lack of economic specialization in primitive society, where almost
everybody, apart from very young children, the aged and invalids,
does the same kind of work (for example, hunting, cultivating,
fishing, cattle-tending and house-building), subject only to the
sexual division of labour mentioned above. It follows that all
adults are capable of instructing their own children or those of
near relatives in the basic technical activities of the community.
Thus, children acquire most of their technical knowledge and
skill from close kinsfolk and neighbours.
In connection with the sexual division of labour, it is important
to note the early differentiation of the interests and activities of
boys and girls respectively. The former tend to adhere to their
male kinsfolk and the latter to their female kinsfolk, each sex thus
acquiring specialized interests and skills appropriate to it. Such a
differentiation exists among ourselves in the sphere of play; for
example, boys play with trains and girls with dolls; but it is
almost completely lacking in formal education . 1
1 This has a bearing on the question of the relative status of the sexes in primitive
society which we discussed in the preceding section. It should be noted that the ques~
tion of sex equality can only arise when there is a possibility of members of both sexes
being subjected to the same educational process and carrying out the same types of
AGE GROUPS, INITIATION AND EDUCATION 183
It follows from what has been said above that learning in
primitive society is an active process — the interests of children
themselves make them active participants in the educational
process rather than passive recipients. Primitive education con-
sists rather of learning than of being taught. This is correlated
with the fact that children are regarded as immature adults
rather than as a separate group with interests divergent from those
of adults. The simple economic activities of primitive peoples are
readily understood by intelligent children, in a way which does
not occur in our society. A doctor, lawyer, or technician could
not possibly explain the techniques of his profession or trade to
his young children. The understanding of these techniques
necessitates a long and highly specialized period of training. In
primitive society, on the other hand, children can participate
increasingly in adult activities, and are gradually drawn into the
social framework of the adult community without any abrupt
transition, except in so far as initiation ceremonies are concerned;
and, as we have seen, these are mainly concerned with social and
religious status and not with the acquisition of technical skill.
In everyday life in primitive society children play a useful part
in adult activities at a very much earlier age than amongst our-
selves. This means that children think of themselves at a very
early age as members of a community to whose vital activities
they are progressively making a greater contribution as they
grow up. This difference, like several others which we mentioned,
is a relative one, but is none the less significant. It is true that
children, particularly girls, are occasionally useful in our society
(especially in rural communities), and are conscious of the contri-
butions which they make. But the earlier and more full participa-
tion of children in adult pursuits in a primitive educational
system is clearly seen in the following table. This synoptic view
of education among the Tallensi also brings out very clearly the
activity in adult life. Thus, in our own society the emancipation of women in such
spheres as higher education and membership of learned professions has only pro-
gressed because members of both sexes can in fact undergo the same types of educa-
tion and follow the same lines of adult activity. A woman journalist, lawyer or
doctor is not precluded from following her career by occasional pregnancies and the
care of young children, since the latter may be largely delegated to nurses and school-
teachers. The same is not true of male activities, such as hunting and warfare, in primi-
tive society, and therefore the question of sex equality simply does not arise. Conse-
quently, although the work and life of women may be more arduous and from our
point of view less dignified in some primitive societies than those of men, they are not
conceived in this way by natives of either sex. They are accepted without question as
part of the cultural situation into which the individual is born.
s.4.1 — 14
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
184
close integration of play with more serious activities, the import-
ance of which was stressed earlier in this section.
Synoptic Chart of Educational Development among the
Tallensi 1
Boys
Economic Duties and Activities Play
3-6 years
None at first. Towards end of Exuberant motor and explora-
this period begin to assist in peg- tory play. Use mimetic toys (bow,
ging out goats; scaring birds from drum, etc.) in egocentric play,
newly sown fields and from crops ; Towards end of period social and
accompany family sowing and imaginative play with “cattle” and
harvesting parties; using hoc in “house-building” commences,
quasi-play to glean ground-nuts often in company of older
in company of older siblings. children of either sex, as well as
recreational games and dancing.
6-g years
These duties now fully estab- Imaginative “cattle” and
lished. Help in house-building by “house-building” play common,
carrying swish. Assist in sowing the latter often reflecting current
and harvesting. Towards end of economic activity of adults. Prac-
period begin to go out with the tice with bow and arrow in marks-
herd-boys, and to care for poultry, rnanship competitions, and “hunt-
ing” with groups of comrades
begun. Recreational games and
dancing established. Modelling
clay figures and plaiting begun.
Ritual play begun.
g-12 years
F ully responsible cattle-herding. F ur ther development of preced-
Care for poultry. Assisting parents ing forms of play, especially of
in hoeing and care of crops, but ritual play. Clay-modelling and
without responsibility. Farming plaiting established. Recreational
own small plots and ground-nuts, games and dancing more skilful,
but in quasi-play. Sons of special- Quasi-play farming,
ist craftsmen assist fathers in sub-
sidiary capacity — “learning by
looking”.
Sexual dichotomy in work and play established.
1 This chart is reproduced by courtesy of the International African Institute, from
Fortes, “Social and Psychological Aspects of Education in Taleland”, Supplement to
Africa, Vol. XI, pp. 62-4.
AGE GROUPS, INITIATION AND EDUCATION
185
12-15 years
Duties as in preceding period, Imaginative play abandoned,
but more responsible. Responsible Dancing the principal recreation,
care of poultry, sometimes own Ritual play abandoned. Modelling
property. Leaders of herd-boys, gradually abandoned. Plaiting
Real farming of own plots and in for personal decoration mainly,
co-operation with older members Regular sweet-hearting com-
of family established by end of mences.
period. Sons of specialists experi-
mentally making things.
Girls
Economic Duties and Activities Play
3-6 years
None at first. Towards end of Exuberant motor and explora-
period the same duties as small tory play. Attached to older sisters
boys. Frequent nursing of infants, and drawn into their “housc-
Accompany mothers to water- keeping” play. Towards end of
hole and begin to carry tiny period begin to take active social
water-pots. Help in domestic part in the latter, and begin re-
tasks such as sweeping. creational play and dancing.
Often found in mixed sex groups.
6-g years
Duties of previous period estab- “Housekeeping” play usual,
lished. Responsible co-operation Recreational play and dancing
in water-carrying and simpler established. Begin to learn plait-
domestic duties. Help in cooking ing. Participate in “building”
and in activities associated with play of boys, mimicking current
food-preparation, such as search- women’s activities, e.g. plastering,
ing for wild edible herbs. Accom-
pany family parties at sowing and
harvesting, giving quasi-playful
help. Carry swish at building
operations and assist women in
plastering and floor-beating, but
still with a play element.
g- 1 2 years
All domestic duties can be en- “Housekeeping” play contin-
trusted to them by end of this ues, gradually fading out at
period — water-carrying, cooking, end of this period. Dancing be-
care of infants, etc. Assisting in comes principal recreation. Plait-
building and plastering, etc., more ing both for decoration and use
responsibility. Often sent to mar- established. Begin to have sweet-
ket to buy and sell. Help in hearts, but not yet with serious
women’s part of the work at sow- intent,
ing and harvest times.
Sexual dichotomy in work and play established.
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
1 86
12-15 years
Responsible part in all domestic
duties of everyday life, and of
those associated with ceremonial
occasions. Go for firewood and
collecl shea-fruits in the bush, and
help to prepare shea-butter. (Mar-
riage a very near prospect.)
Note . — Care of infants and
children is a duty of girls at all
ages. Boys also are frequendy en-
trusted with this task.
Imaginative play abandoned.
Dancing the main recreation.
Courtship and hetero-sexual in-
terests occupy a great deal of time
and attention. Actively partici-
pate in the social side of funeral
ceremonies, etc., in the role of
marriageable girls.
3. In regard to the content of education, that is, the things
learned by the growing individual, we have already pointed out
that these include knowledge and skills on the one hand and senti-
ments and values on the other. The former are necessary to
economic pursuits, practical life and adjustment to geographical
environment. The latter are concerned with the individual’s
adjustment to his social environment — he must acquire the
social sentiments and moral values associated with his kinship
obligations, his sexual behaviour and his conformity with tribal
traditions generally.
We have already emphasized certain ways in which primitive
technical education differs from our own. In the sphere of moral
education the differences are even more striking. The most
salient difference is that in primitive society generally no knowl-
edge is withheld from the child except that connected with eso-
teric law and ritual. This is especially important in regard to the
facts of life and death. Primitive peoples are, by our standards,
extraordinarily frank in discussing such matters. 1 This is not a
matter of deliberate “sex education”, but a more or less necessary
consequence of life under primitive conditions. Privacy in family
life hardly exists where the whole family shares the same sleeping
accommodation; and where domestic animals are kept, primitive
children acquire at an early age a knowledge of the f acts of repro-
duction. In the same way the facts of death, from which we are
apt to shield our children, are regarded in a much more matter-
of-fact way by primitive children. Most of them have at some time
or other seen a corpse, sometimes under conditions which we
should regard as quite unsuitable for children, as in Samoa,
1 Apart from specific taboos connected with particular kinship relationships, for
example, reticence often enjoined between brothers and sisters.
AGE GROUPS, INITIATION AND EDUCATION 187
where they may witness a magical autopsy on a woman who has
died in childbirth. The relative lack of concealment, both in
speech and behaviour, of the fundamental facts of human exist-
ence leads children to acquire a more realistic attitude towards
them, and minimizes the morbid fears and other psychopathic
developments which are apt to become associated with them in
civilized society. Furthermore, children acquire in this way an
early appreciation of their destined biological role. Thus a little
Tallensi girl of nine or ten years was asked why she did not eat
some of the meat distributed in connection with a certain sacrifice.
She replied by pointing out that the Tallensi believe that a woman
partaking of such meat will be rendered sterile: “Am I not a
woman? Who wants to be sterile ? 55 It is clear that such a child
could never experience the anxieties often associated with repro-
duction in the case of sensitive young women in our own society.
Not only the simple facts of reproduction, but also their social
implications are appreciated at a very early age by children.
Another example from the Tallensi explains why small boys of six
or seven are always anxious to own a hen. Such a boy will explain
his ambition in the following terms: “ Tf you have a hen it lays
eggs, and you take the eggs and breed chicks, then you can sell
the chickens and buy a goat, and when the goat breeds you can
sell its offspring and buy a sheep, and when the sheep breeds you
can sell its offspring and buy a cow, and then you can take the
cow and get a wife . 5 551
The conditions of primitive education thus conduce to an early
acquisition of adult outlook and values and also minimize sources
of psychological conflict. But the role of mere frankness in the
latter case can be exaggerated. An even more important factor is
probably the fact that social sentiments are acquired as a part of a
unitary and homogeneous set of cultural values. In our own
society every child is subjected to a number of divergent and often
violently contradictory cultural values. In the home the parents
may disagree on questions of religion, morality or politics ; when
the child goes to school, it is subjected to different influences
from teachers and playmates; and the transition to the workaday
world, and to membership of all sorts of clubs, societies and
associations, together with the influence of various forms of
political, moral and religious propaganda, subject the growing
individual to a number of cultural influences which conflict
1 Fortes (1), p. 1 1.
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
1 88
with one another and often with those which have been operative
in home and school.
In primitive society, on the other hand, everybody is in general
agreed as to what is right and wrong. As we shall see in dealing
with primitive law, this does not mean that everybody conforms
to social custom. It merely means that nobody challenges it as a
matter of moral principle. Individuals may evade their religious
obligations or pay little attention to dogma, but there are, in
general, no heretics or atheists. Though it is true, for example, that
a child’s parents may belong to different totemic clans or worship
different ancestors, the two types of observance are similar and
each agrees that the other is right in following his or her cult, and
that the child should adopt one or the other according to whether
descent is patrilineal or matrilineal. In the sphere of politics, the
people may combine to depose an unpopular or autocratic chief,
but only to replace him by someone more acceptable; nobody
challenges the institution of chieftainship, or advocates social and
economic equality. In war-making societies, individuals experi-
ence a natural fear of the dangers of battle, and sometimes
succumb to it; but they are not torn in opposite directions by the
conflicting ideals of patriotism and Christianity as are many
pacifists in our own society. All these features of primitive life
exert their influence on the mind of the growing individual. He
may and often does assert his own individual desires against the
dictates of custom, and sometimes experiences conflicts of per-
sonal loyalty. But he is not usually subjected to the intense moral
conflicts which come with civilization. Primitive communities
include individuals who are actually or potentially maladjusted
psychologically, but they do not flourish like the green bay tree,
as they do in our own society.
4. It may be inferred, from what has been said, that the
motives and attitudes underlying the educational process display
certain characteristics peculiar to primitive society. There is far
more sharing of interests by adults and children. This is because
the interests of the adult community are more obviously relevant
to the welfare of children. Among ourselves, the young are incap-
able of appreciating the practical difficulties and financial
worries of their parents. Primitive children know all too well,
often from bitter experience, the meaning of a bad harvest, a
hurricane, a drought, or a plague of locusts. Consequently, their
interest in, and desire to acquire knowledge of, the ways, both
AGE GROUPS, INITIATION AND EDUCATION 189
practical and magico-religious, in which their community meets
its problems are very much more keen than among our own
children, who live in a world largely isolated from that of adults.
The principles and goals of education are thus appreciated
by primitive children, and are not taken on trust or imposed by
adult discipline. As they learn, they realize the importance of
what they are doing, and their progressively greater participation
in adult affairs gives personal satisfaction through increasing skill
and the acquisition of reputation in activities vital to community
life. The place of “prizes” is taken by real rewards, material and
social, for real tasks successfully accomplished, and this again
conduces to an early acquisition of the adult outlook, skill and
values.
4. Political Organization and Social Status
In all primitive communities differences in the social status of
individuals are recognized. Even among such peoples as the
Eskimo and the Australian aborigines, proficiency in hunting and
old age respectively serve to mark off superior individuals from
the remainder of the community, and this is expressed in a number
of privileges, both social and material. Usually, social status co-
incides with the exercise of power in the economic and political
fields, but sometimes they are differentiated, as among the Haida.
The standards of social superiority vary extensively. Hereditary
rank, success in economic pursuits, wealth, military prowess, old
age, magico-religious status or power, and even proficiency in
games and entertainment — all of these may operate as criteria of
social status in different primitive societies. Usually two or more
of them are operative in any given community, either in reinforc-
ing the position of the same individuals or groups or by differen-
tiating various individuals or groups according to their respective
powers and claims to fame. For example, members of despised
classes may be held to possess extraordinary magical powers, as
in parts of India, or may be specialist craftsmen, as among the
Banyankole.
But such examples are exceptional. More commonly the various
criteria of social status reinforce each other. The commonest
example is the reciprocal relation between hereditary rank and
wealth. Where the hereditary principle, either patrilineal or
matrilineal, is operative, it is usually reinforced by inheritance
and by the payment of tribute. As we shall see, this is not simply a
190
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
matter of economic autocracy. The wealth of men of rank is
constantly redistributed in the form of gifts, feasts and the pro-
vision of entertainment, or is kept as a reserve to meet the needs
of the community in times of crisis or when large-scale corporate
hospitality must be offered to other communities.
Magico-religious factors also serve to support political authority
in the majority of primitive communities, either through the
belief that the chief or headman has peculiar supernatural powers
or attributes, or by the fact that by virtue of his wealth and posi-
tion he can command the services of priests or sorcerers. We shall
meet many examples of the interrelationships of wealth, political
authority and magico-religious status and power, and of the
different ways in which these interact in various primitive
communities.
Apart from the individuals, classes, castes, councils of elders
and other authorities which exercise political power, there exists
an important distinction in regard to the size and structure of the
groups over which such power is exercised. Primitive peoples
may be broadly divided into those in which political organization
is stratified and those in which it is segmented. As usual, border-
line cases can be found, but the distinction can nevertheless be
drawn in most cases, and is absolutely vital, not only to the
theoretical discussion of political organization, but also to prac-
tical problems of native administration.
Stratified societies are those in which there exists a central-
ized authority, a complex mechanism of administration, and
usually also some form of specialized legal institutions. Such an
organization is found in most Bantu tribes, where there exists a
hierarchy of chief, sub-chiefs and headmen with an accessory
establishment of courtiers, councillors and deputies, as well as
executive and legal officials. The duties, privileges and powers of
the various authorities in such a system are clearly defined in rela-
tion to one another and to the supreme authority. Similar types
of political organization are found among many Amerindian tribes
and in Polynesia.
A typical example of a stratified political system is found in the
traditional organization of the Hehe of Tanganyika. Though this
organization, as described here, has been successively modified by
German and British occupation, the system as a whole is still
active, and provides the judicial and administrative institutions
by which the tribe is governed under the British mandate.
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION
191
The legends of the tribe record that until the middle of the last
century the Hehe people consisted of a number of small tribes.
These small tribes were welded together by two able men, from
whom the present line of chiefs is descended. The tales still told of
their conquests were a charter for the authority of the chief, and
for the right of the chiefly family to rule. In addition to the chief
there were sub-chiefs and local headmen.
The powers of the Hehe chief were judicial, legislative, adminis-
trative, economic and military. This unity of function descended
throughout the whole tribal hierarchy, even to the headmen.
But in spite of his very extensive powers, the Hehe chief was not
in fact an autocrat. He was assisted by a tribal council, whose
members were chosen by himself on a basis partly of friendship
and partly of skill in political matters. Generally, it was the
council as a whole which reached a decision, and the chief only
opposed his councillors in very exceptional circumstances.
Within limits the chief could change the law. This he did,
firstly, by his decisions in court which established a sort of “case
law”; and secondly, by making proclamations at large public
gatherings. Such decrees were connected with such matters as
military levies, taxation and emergency measures against
famine.
The chief was a rich man. His wealth came from several
sources. He had large herds of cattle, which were augmented
from time to time by raiding the herds of neighbouring tribes.
Many of the captured cattle were distributed by the chief to
warriors who had taken part in raids, but the chief kept a generous
portion for himself. Furthermore, the chief could confiscate the
cattle of any commoner who was held to own possessions above his
station — the privileges of chiefs and men of authority in such
matters were jealously guarded. In theory all cattle were the
chief’s to requisition in peace or war, but there is no evidence that
this privilege was abused. The chief could demand forced labour
for the building of his house and could also claim tribute. Each
headman was responsible for a communally cultivated garden,
the produce of which went to the chief, who could also exact a
levy on the harvests of commoners.
Finally, the chief had a monopoly of the ivory trade. All tusks
were brought to him, and he paid for them with guns, ammuni-
tion and cloth which he obtained from traders. He was thus the
focus of the ivory trade, and if this was a source of profit to him,
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
192
it was also an advantage to the people. In fact, the wealth of the
chief in general was a source of advantage, not only to himself,
but also to the community. Thus his accumulation of cattle and
grain was used as an emergency store in case of famine, for the
rewarding of men who had performed useful services and for the
feeding of warriors at war.
In addition to the economic basis of the chief’s authority, this
was supported by magico-religious beliefs and practices. The chief
acquired a number of “medicines”, the object of which was to
produce magical results — to protect warriors going into battle,
to drive away enemies, and to protect the chief and his family
against danger. His authority was also supported by the system of
ancestor worship. Among the Hehe each family invoked its own
ancestors, and the only tribal gods were the souls of dead rulers.
These, of course, could only be invoked by the chief, on whom the
people were thus dependent for prayers in connection with war,
droughts and other matters of public concern. It may be noted
that sub-chiefs and headmen could invoke their own ancestors for
rain, but only with the chief’s permission.
The chief had many ceremonial privileges. He had a vast
retinue, including guards, messengers and slaves. The latter were
either prisoners-of-war or men drawn from a special hereditary
class called va-fugwa . Even today it is a serious insult to call a man
a mufugwa. This class of slaves did the menial work and also
provided children to act as human sacrifices when chiefs and
members of their families were buried. The chief also had many
wives, both at his own residence and scattered throughout the
tribal territory. He had a special decorated stool on which he
alone could sit, and a special term of respect, atse senga , was used
when addressing him.
The Hehe sub-chiefs, of whom there were about thirty, held a
somewhat similar, though subordinate, position. At the time of the
unification of the Hehe, most of the original chiefs of component
tribes were retained as sub-chiefs, their titles being hereditary.
Some, however, were nominees of the chief. There was no hier-
archy among the sub-chiefs — no one of them was responsible to
another, though they were all subordinate to the chief. The sub-
chief had a small retinue and some wealth in cattle, depending on
his station. He acted as local war leader and as judge. His judg-
ments were generally accepted, though there was a right of appeal
to the chief.
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION
i93
The headmen exercised similar functions on a smaller scale,
and in addition had control over land. If a man from another
district wished to settle in an area, it was to the headman, not the
chief, that he would appeal. Permission was normally given, except
when land was scarce or the applicant a notoriously bad character.
The headman’s court served a useful function in dealing with
such matters as marital and family disputes, petty theft, adultery,
slander and abuse, fighting, and suits for debt. The headman acted
more as arbitrator than as judge. He listened to the opinions of
the assembly, and his decision was not so much his own judgment
as the consensus of opinion of the whole gathering. The meetings
were less formal than in the larger courts, and thus made possible
the airing of grievances and amicable settlement of disputes. In
fact, litigants would often renounce compensation once they had
ventilated their grievances and been vindicated by public opinion.
The system of the Hehe illustrates very well the working of
primitive political and legal institutions. The power of chiefs and
others in authority was great, and in some fields absolute. It was
supported by economic obligations, magico-religious beliefs and
ceremonial observances. On the whole, however, it was not
abused. Apart from the chief’s sense of responsibility towards his
people, there were other factors of restraint : public opinion, the
fear of revolt or secession, and the fact that the chief was himself
largely dependent on the people for tribute, gifts and support in
war. In the case of subordinate officials, power was also limited
by the possibility of appeal to the chief. The people were likewise
dependent on their rulers for leadership in war, the administration
of justice, prayers to the gods on matters of public concern, and
the expenditure of wealth for public purposes. The relations
between rulers and people were thus essentially reciprocal. They
were personal in character, thus ensuring, on the whole, a har-
monious and just administration.
An almost universal concomitant of social and political stratifi-
cation in primitive society is the rule of endogamy, which ensures
that men and women of certain classes or castes must inter-
marry. Occasionally, it is laid down that a man of rank must
marry, not merely any woman of his own class, but a particular
kinswoman. A highly specialized example of this is found in
Tonga, where the sanctity and secular authority of various
members of the aristocracy were reinforced by the kinship relation-
ships existing between them. As we shall see, the whole political
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
i94
structure of Tongan society was based upon certain fundamental
characteristics of the kinship system.
The domestic unit in Tonga consisted primarily of a man and
his wife, together with their own and adopted children. But this
household was often augmented by polygyny, and by resident
consanguineous and affinal relatives; and also, in the case of
chiefs, by a number of kinsmen of inferior rank, who acted as
servants and attendants. Within the kinship organization, rank was
determined by two factors, age and sex, the latter being the more
important. A woman was always superior in rank to her brother,
and the same relative status obtained between their respective
children. After sex, age was the important determinant of status.
The father was the head of the household, and towards him
and his brothers the children preserved an attitude of respect.
But they showed an even greater respect towards his sister, an
attitude which was extended to her husband. This whole system
depended, of course, upon the superiority in rank of the father’s
sister over her brother.
The attitude of restraint, respect and obedience towards the
father and the father’s sister contrasts in a most marked way with
the attitude adopted towards the father’s father and mother’s
father, towards whom a considerable amount of liberty was
allowed — a youth might wear his grandfather’s clothes or eat his
food. But this free attitude found its greatest development in the
relationship towards the mother’s brother; this was described by
saying that the sister’s son was fahu 1 to his mother’s brother.
Th c fahu relationship was expressed concretely in a freedom of
restraint in behaviour towards the mother’s brother, together
with a number of claims to his property, and to that of his
children. This arrangement was non-reciprocal, for the mother’s
brother had no corresponding claims upon the property of his
fahu> his only compensation being his corresponding /zAw rights
towards his own mother’s brother. Though the sister’s child was
the “great fahu”, the grandchildren of a man were also fahu to
him in a lesser degree, as were his classificatory sister’s children . 8
1 This term has been translated “above the law”. The relationship to the mother’s
brother which it embodies has been given a specific interpretation by Professor
Radcliffe-Brown. (See A. R. Radcliffe-Brown, “The Mother’s Brother in South
Africa,” South African Journal of Science , Vol. XXI, pp. 542-55.)
* The fahu relationship was not a mere kinship formality; apart from socially de-
fined ceremonial rights, the fahu did in fact very often exercise his rights over the
property of his mother’s brother, though too great an abuse of the privilege seems to
have been prevented by the force of public opinion.
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION 195
This very brief reference to kinship relations in Tonga is
necessary as a prelude to the discussion of chieftainship. The
highest Tongan chiefs were the heads of patrilineal lineages called
haa , of which there were about thirteen. The highest lineage of all
was that of the Tui Tonga, which was not called haa , but sinae, a
special term designed to emphasize the Tui Tonga’s transcendent
rank. In order to clarify the highest ranks of Tongan aristocracy,
it will be well to list briefly its more important titles.
1. The Tui Tonga . — The higher ranks in Tongan society all
centred around the “sacred king”, the Tui Tonga. The most
striking thing about the Tui Tonga was his extreme sanctity on
the one hand and his lack of secular power on the other. The first
Tui Tonga was of divine descent, being sprung from the god
Tangaloa, and the sanctity of the office was expressed in a number
of taboos and ceremonial observances surrounding it.
2. The hau . — While sanctity resided in the Tui Tonga, ad-
ministrative power was exercised by the hau , or secular ruler.
According to tradition, the two functions were once merged in
the Tui Tonga, until the twenty- third of the line was assassinated;
his son Kauulufonua I pursued his father’s murderers throughout
the neighbouring islands, finally exacting vengeance upon them
at Uvea. After this, through fear of assassination of himself and
his descendants, Kauulufonua delegated his administrative power
to his younger brother, who was given the title of Tui Haa Taka-
laua, and who thus became the eponymous ancestor of the lineage
called Haa Takalaua. The Tui Tonga still retained his exalted
status, his claims to tribute and to women of high rank in marriage,
while the duties of administration were taken over by the Tui Haa
Takalaua. This state of affairs persisted for some time, until the
sixth Tui Haa Takalaua appointed his son Ngata as the first Tui
Kanokupolu. Thereafter the Tui Kanokupolu tended to assume
the office of hau> and though the line of the Tui Haa Takalaua
seems still to have exercised a considerable amount of power, this
passed in time mainly into the hands of the Tui Kanokupolu.
3. The great royal wife of the Tui Tonga . — The Tui Tonga had a
number of wives, but there was always one, referred to as moheofo ,
who was the mother of the succeeding Tui Tonga. The moheofo was
always a woman of high rank. Several of the earlier moheofo came
from other islands, two of them being Samoans. But in later
times there emerges what appears to be a stylization of the rela-
tionship. Of the sixteen moheofo listed by Gifford, the seventh,
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
196
eighth and ninth were daughters of the Tui Haa Takalaua, the
first of these marriages taking place a short time after the institu-
tion of the first Tui Haa Takalaua. Again, the inauguration of'
the office of Tui Kanokupolu was followed by a series of marriages,
in which five rnoheofo were daughters of the Tui Kanokupolu, and
one his son’s daughter. These cases support the statements of
several observers that marriage between the Tui Tonga and the
daughter of the Tui Kanokupolu was obligatory. The record of
actual instances is of course incomplete, there being only sixteen
rnoheofo recorded as against thirty-nine Tui Tonga, but it does
suffice to show a tendency for the Tui Tonga to have as his
rnoheofo the daughter, first, of the Tui Haa Takalaua and later of
the Tui Kanokupolu.
4. The Tui Tonga Fefine . — The female Tui Tonga (Tui Tonga
Fefine) was the oldest living sister of the Tui Tonga. As such, she
was senior to the Tui Tonga and to his son, which will be clear
from what we have said above concerning the brother to sister
and brother’s son to father’s sister relationships.
5. The Tamaha . — The daughter 1 of the Tui Tonga Fefine was
the Tamaha, and was the person of highest rank in all Tonga.
As the great fahu of the Tui Tonga, she commanded his respect,
which was expressed in acts of abject obeisance and in the humble
presentation of offerings.
In the above brief account of the high titles of Tongan society,
we can see the importance of kinship in political organization. In
the first place, the high chiefly lineages of the Tui Haa Takalaua
and the Tui Kanokupolu derived their sanctity from the lineage
of the Tui Tonga, and ultimately from Tangaloa. Sanctity was a
relative matter, and the other high lineages derived it from the
fact that they were collateral branches of the dynasty of the Tui
Tonga. But apart from renowned and divine descent, the system
just described was reinforced by affinal relationships which at the
same time organized political structure on the basis of kinship,
and also set a pattern of kinship relationships which ran right
through Tongan society from the highest to the lowest.
The ideal scheme of affinal relationships centring round the
Tui Tonga is represented by Professor Radcliffe-Brown 1 as follows :
1 The title of Tamaha might be held by a sister’s son of the Tui Tonga, but it
belonged primarily to his sister’s daughter, in accordance with the seniority of sisters
over their brothers.
1 Unpublished notes by A. R. Radcliffe-Brown communicated to R. W.
Williamson.
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION
Tui Tonga (i)
i97
Tui Kanokupolu (1)
Tui Tonga (2) = Moheofo
Tui Kanokupolu (2)
Tui Tonga (3) Tui Tonga Fefine = Tui Haa Teiho or Tui Lakepa
.1 1
Tui Tonga (4) Tamaha
The most important feature of this table is the marriage of the
Tui Tonga to the daughter of the Tui Kanokupolu. Radcliffe-
Brown states that “when the rank of Tui Kanokupolu was first
established, the Tui Tonga laid it down that it was the duty of the
Tui Kanokupolu to give his daughter to the Tui Tonga as his
wife”; and certainly, from the time of the thirty-fourth Tui
Tonga and the fourth Tui Kanokupolu onwards, this seems to
have been the general practice.
In connection with this, Radcliffe-Brown notes several points
for consideration. In the first place, there is the seniority of a sister
over her brother, to which we have referred above. Though
descent and inheritance were patrilineal, rank was determined
to a greater extent by the mother than by the father. This is clearly
seen in the custom of regarding the “half-chiefs” who were sons
of women of chiefly rank and commoners more highly than those
whose parents were male chiefs and female commoners. For this
reason the daughter of the Tui Kanokupolu would be of higher
rank than his son, that is, the succeeding Tui Kanokupolu.
Secondly, in Tonga the grandchildren occupy a very favoured
position, a daughter’s son ranking above a son’s son. In olden
days a number of respectful observances towards the daughter’s
son (who was a “lesser faku”) gave expression to this principle.
This would mean that, in terms of the diagram, the Tui Kanoku-
polu ( 1 ) would occupy this position in relation to his daughter’s
son, the Tui Tonga (3). The Tui Tonga, being generally either the
sister’s son or the daughter’s son of the Tui Kanokupolu, was thus
entitled to the respect generally accorded to these relatives, and
the whole system is thus seen to emphasize the seniority of the
Tui Tonga lineage over that of the Tui Kanokupolu.
The significance of this thesis of Professor Radcliffe-Brown is
that the adoption of a standard of kinship relationships between
the highest members of the aristocracy served to define those
relationships in a manner consistent with the political system,
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
198
which was thus reinforced. The sanctity of the Tui Tonga,
established in the first place by his divine origin and the legendary
accounts of the illustrious deeds of his ancestors, was still further
emphasized by his kinship relationship to the secular ruler, to
whom he was nominally senior, and upon whom he exercised
certain claims defined by the affinal relationship existing between
them.
As we have said, the rule of endogamy is almost universal in
stratified societies. But there are one or two atypical examples in
which the rule of exogamy is operative, the best illustration being
the political system of the Natchez. This tribe was divided into
three grades of nobility and one of commoners. The former, in
order of superiority, were referred to as Suns, Nobles and Hon-
oured Men (or Women). The Suns were the highest grade of
nobility, and among them the Great Sun was the high chief.
The commoners were called Puanls by the early French observers,
a word which has been translated “Stinkard”. The curious feature
of Natchez social organization was that members of the three
noble classes married Stinkards, though the latter also married
among themselves. Children of women of the nobility who married
Stinkards belonged to the class of their mother. Children of men
of the nobility who married Stinkard women belonged to the
social class immediately below that of their father. Swanton gives
the following representation of the constitution of Natchez
society :
Nobility
Stinkards :
Suns: Children of Sun mothers and Stinkard fathers*
Nobles: Children of Noble mothers and Stinkard
fathers, or of Sun fathers and Stinkard mothers.
Honoured People: Children of Honoured women and
Stinkard fathers, or of Noble fathers and Stinkard
mothers.
Children of Stinkard mothers and Honoured men,
or of Stinkard fathers and Stinkard mothers.
The actual operation of the Natchez system was probably less
rigid than this representation would suggest, since individuals
could apparently change their class to a limited extent. Thus a
Stinkard who possessed superior social qualities could raise him-
self to the grade of Noble. Unfortunately, the original records are
inadequate and to some extent contradictory, and it is impossible
to discern exactly what variations existed within the rigid system
POLITICAL ORGANIZATION
199
outlined above. But the general pattern of the system is clear,
and is interesting as a striking exception to the general rule of
endogamy associated with stratified societies.
In contradistinction to stratified political systems, such as those
just described, many peoples of Africa and America, as well as
the majority of those of Melanesia and all Australian aboriginal
tribes, are organized as segmented societies. Here each small
local group, whether static or nomadic, forms an autonomous
political unit. The segmented societies of Melanesia are exempli-
fied by those of Malaita and Wogeo. In Australia it is the local
horde governed by its older men which is the only unit of political
organization. Most of the Amerindian tribes of the Area of Wild
Seeds were likewise organized into small autonomous local groups.
Thus the nomadic hunting and food-gathering bands of the
Paviosto numbered only about a hundred individuals, each band
being politically autonomous. In Africa there are many seg-
mented societies, of which the Nuer and Tallensi may be cited as
examples.
The component autonomous political units of' segmented
societies may combine on occasion for purposes of war, but they
owe no allegiance to any centralized authority. Political power is
exercised by hereditary headmen, by councils of elders or by men
of wealth in the community whose authority may cover only a
village or other small local group. In such communities the bonds
based on kinship — for example, in the lineage or clan — are of
paramount importance. The small local group is usually held
together by the relations of kinship or clan membership which
unite the various individuals composing it. In stratified societies
such bonds exist, and are indeed extremely important in the
functioning of the smaller segments of the political structure, and
also, through the rule of endogamy, in maintaining the solidarity
and privileges of the ruling classes. But so far as the political
organization of the whole community is concerned, the bonds of
kinship are secondary to those based on habitation of a common
territory, community of culture and common allegiance to higher
political authorities.
This distinction, however, must not be pressed too far. The
forces of kinship, clanship and membership of small local groups
may also be extremely important in stratified societies. Thus, even
in the highly developed political organization of Ngonde, the
paramount chiefs played little or no part in maintaining the
I. A. I — 15
200 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
common law, which was administered by local chiefs and head-
men, while disputes relating to marriage were normally settled
by the kinsfolk of the two people concerned, just as such matters
are normally dealt with in segmented societies. Again, in the
kingdom of Ankole the supreme judicial power of the Mugabe
was limited in cases of murder to granting the right of blood
revenge, which was carried out by the kinsfolk of the dead man.
5. Totemic Groupings
Among many primitive peoples there arc found various forms
of association between human groups on the one hand and species
of animals, plants or natural phenomena on the other. Such an
association is known as totemism , 1 though there exists a con-
siderable variety of opinion as to the proper definition of this
term and as to whether certain atypical and unusual practices
should be classed as totemic. In the vast majority of cases totemic
groups are unilateral descent groups, such as clans or moieties.
Each clan or moiety in a totemic society regards itself as being in
some way associated with its totem, which is usually some
species of animal, bird, plant or other living thing. 2 Sometimes a
totemic group has two or more species as its totems, in which
case the practice is known as linked totemism , or multiple totemism .
The actual beliefs and observances associated with totemism
vary enormously from one community to another, but certain
characteristics are widespread:
(а) It is common for the human group to be called by the name
of the totem.
(б) The totemic association usually has a legendary back-
ground, consisting of one or more myths which link the
human group with its totemic species. Very commonly this
takes the form of a belief in descent from a totemic ancestor,
that is, from some being who was partly human and partly
animal, bird, fish and so on.
( c ) There is often some form of religious ritual connected with
the totem. This ritual frequently re-enacts dramatically the
mythological events which are believed to account for the
origin of the totemic relationship. A specialized type of
1 This term is derived from a Chippewa word, variously rendered as dodaim , too -
daim , ototeman and ododam , which has been adopted into the English language in the
form totem.
2 Very occasionally a totem may be an object of material culture or some inanimate
natural phenomenon or force such as wind, moon, thunder and so on.
TOTEMIC GROUPINGS
201
totemic religious ritual is found in the increase ceremonies
of the Australian aborigines.
(i d ) The religious observances connected with totemism com-
monly include prohibitions against members of the totemic
group killing or eating the totemic species.
(e) Since totemic groups are usually clans or moieties, totemism
is usually found to be associated with the rule of exogamy.
(f) It is common for the totemic species to be represented by
some kind of carving or symbolic design, which forms an
emblem or crest with which the totemic group feels itself to
be associated. The most striking example of this is found in
the famous “totem poles” of the north-west coast of America.
While the above characteristics are common features of
totemism, it must be emphasized that in any given totemic
system, one or more of them may be absent and that they receive
differential emphasis from one community to another. This
becomes clear if we review briefly the characteristics associated
with several totemic systems, characteristics which may be com-
pared with those of the Karadjeri system described in greater
detail in Chapter III, Section io.
In Tikopia, each of the four clans is associated with one of the
major types of vegetable food as follows :
Yam — Kafika clan.
Coco-nut — Tafua clan.
Taro — Taumako clan.
Breadfruit — Fangarere clan.
The clans are not named after their totems, but the vegetable
food concerned is said to “obey” or “listen to” its associated clan,
and particularly the chief of the clan. The chief of the Tafua clan
performs no ceremonies in connection with the coco-nut, but the
other chiefs have important ritual duties (which vary between the
clans) in connection with the planting or harvesting of their
respective totems. There is no taboo on the eating of the totemic
food, and the only trace of ritual prohibition occurs in the case of
members of the Tafua clan, who are required to open a coco-nut
by piercing the eyes and not by cutting, as is commonly done by
members of other clans. Each of the four totemic foods is associated
with the principal deity of its clan, and the ceremonies performed
are designed to maintain the food-supply by invoking this deity.
There is also a general myth, given in Chapter X, Section 4,
202
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
which accounts for the origin of the totemic system. Finally, since
exogamy is not a feature of the Tikopia clans, this characteristic
is absent from Tikopia totemism.
Among the Baganda we find a variety of linked totemism. The
Baganda had approximately thirty-six exogamous patrilineal
clans. Each clan was named after a totemic species, and also had
a secondary totem. There was a taboo on killing or eating either
of the totems, and the unpleasant consequences which were
believed to follow a breach of this rule were more drastic in the
case of the secondary totem. There were, however, no cere-
monies to ensure the fertility of the totemic species.
The totemism of the Iroquois was of an entirely different kind,
and varied slightly in character between the tribes composing
the League. Among the Seneca, each of the matrilincal moieties
was divided into four matrilineal clans, which derived their
names from totemic species. The totems, however, were not the
subject of any religious ceremonies, nor was there any taboo on
killing or eating the totem.
On the north-west coast of America we find a highly specialized
variety of totemism, in which the representation of the totemic
creature, in the form of a mask or carving, was far more im-
portant than the totemic species itself. Clans and other unilateral
exogamous groupings took their names from their totems.
Although there were many food taboos and rites designed to
ensure the supply of natural species in this area, these were in no
way connected with totemism. There was, however, a system of
mythology which linked the totemic group with its totemic
species, and sometimes implied descent from the totem.
The above brief summary indicates how variable are the social
systems to which the term “totemism’ 5 is applied. This emphasizes
the fact that, though we have listed the common characteristics
of totemism, in any given totemic system we find some, but not
all, of these characteristics present. Moreover, the totemic systems
of certain peoples are not internally consistent. In some societies
certain practices connected with totemism may be observed by
some totemic groups but not by others, as we have seen to be the
case in Tikopia. Again, among the Hopi, some clans refrain from
killing their totems, but others do not.
We have so far dealt with the forms of association between uni-
lateral descent groups and natural species which are most com-
monly referred to as totemism. But other types of grouping may be
TOTEMIG GROUPINGS
203
similarly associated with totemic species. In parts of eastern
Australia members of each sex have a particular species of animal
or bird as their totem, a practice which is known as sex totemism .
Thus among the tribes of the Hunter River, New South Wales,
the woodpecker was sacred to the women and the bat to the men.
Not only did each sex respect its own totem, but quarrels broke
out if a man injured a woodpecker or a woman injured a bat.
Again, secret societies or other forms of voluntary social grouping
are sometimes associated with a natural species in a manner
which might be described as totemic. In many communities a
particular individual, usually a shaman or other person endowed
with unusual supernatural powers, sometimes enters into a
special relation with a natural species. This custom is sometimes
referred to as individual totemism . Finally, an atypical form of
totemic organization is found in the conceptional totemism of the
Aranda. Here, membership of a totemic group depends upon the
existence of sacred totemic centres. A child belongs to the totemic
centre nearest to the spot where its mother first became aware of
her pregnancy, or, in native belief, where a totemic spirit from
the centre first entered her body. Since men normally live in the
vicinity of their totemic centres and their wives reside with them,
it usually happens that a child belongs to the totem of its father,
though this is not necessarily the case.
It will be seen that the term “totemism” has been applied to a
bewildering variety of relationships between human beings and
natural species or phenomena . 1 For this reason it is impossible to
reach any satisfactory definition of totemism, though many attempts
have been made to do so. Frazer’s monumental work on the
subject 2 opens with the words: “A totem is a class of material
objects which a savage regards with superstitious respect, believ-
ing that there exists between him and every member of the class
an intimate and altogether special relation”; but this formulation
is inapplicable to many Amerindian forms of totemism in which
the magico-religious element is lacking. On the other hand,
Goldenweiser’s definition of totemism as “the tendency of definite
social units to become associated with objects and symbols of
emotional value” is too vague and general — it would apply, for
example, to the flags of modern nations or badges of clubs or
1 In Australia alone, Professor Elkin distinguishes six different varieties of totem-
ism, namely, individual totemism, sex totemism, moiety totemism, section and sub-
section totemism, clan totemism and local totemism.
2 Totemism and Exogamy.
1204 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
societies, whereas primitive totemism is in general concerned
with natural species or phenomena, even when the symbolic
representation (crest or emblem) is more significant than the
species or phenomenon itself. All definitions of totemism are either
so specific as to exclude a number of systems which are commonly
referred to as “totemic” or so general as to include many
phenomena which cannot properly be referred to by this term.
Although we cannot arrive at any really satisfactory definition
of totemism, Professor Radcliffe-Brown’s formulation, with
specific reference to Australia, comes as close as possible to a
satisfactory statement of the position: “Throughout Australia we
find, with many local variations, a system of customs and beliefs
by which there is set up a special system of relations between the
society and the animals and plants and other natural objects that
are important in the social life. Some of these customs and beliefs
it is usual to include under the term ‘totemism’.” 1 This statement
emphasizes the fundamental character of totemism as a relation-
ship between social organization on the one hand and geo-
graphical environment (particularly the natural species inhabit-
ing it) on the other. All human societies are divided into various
types of social groupings, described in this and the preceding
chapter, and all societies likewise live in a culturally defined
relationship with their natural environment, a relationship which
is far more intimate and significant among primitive peoples than
among ourselves. Where these two principles become integrated
into a single system, where human groups are classified in terms
of natural species, and where the significance of natural species is to
a large extent interpreted in terms of their relationship to human
groups, we may speak of totemism. This implies a segmentation
of society and a parallel segmentation of natural species, or
some of them, which may be graphically represented as follows :
Series of Natural Species
Series of Human Groups
A
B
C
D
E
Mill
a
b
C
d
e
Radcliffc-Brown (a), p. 29.
TOTEMIG GROUPINGS 205
Similar synoptic diagrams for specific totemic systems are given
in Fig. 15. The arrows, indicating the relationship between
human groups and their totems, may stand for any of the beliefs
and customs listed on pp. 201-2. Very broadly these beliefs and
customs may be classified as either social or religious, and some
writers have stressed the distinction between social totemism and
(a) Totemism of the Seneca Tribe— Matrilineal Clans and Moieties.
C b ) Linked Totemism of the Baganda. This diagram if (c*) Moiety Totemism, as
incomplete, as the Baganda have about thirty-six patrilineal found in parts of South-
totemic clans. Eastern Australia.
{d) Totemism of the non-exogamous patrilineal clans of
Tikopia.
(e) Sex Totemism of the
Hunter River Tribes, Eastern
Australia.
Fig. 15.— Some Varieties of Totemism
cult totemism, according to whether the integration of the social
groups concerned, or their ritual relationship to natural species,
receive more emphasis in native belief and custom.
While a relationship based on segmentation is the commonest
and most general basis of totemism, there naturally occur
certain marginal or atypical forms, for example, individual
totemism (where the totem is not common to a group) and the
206
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
totemism of secret societies (where non-members have no totem).
The term “totemism”, however, should not be applied to instances
where the community as a whole bears a relationship to a particu-
lar species or animal emblem (for example, the British lion), or to
cases where only one creature, and not the species as a whole, is
the subject of special observances, as in the case of a special white
crocodile which is held sacred by the Yoruba. But once again it
must be emphasized that no hard-and-fast line can be drawn
between usages which are totemic and those which are not. Thus,
with specific reference to ritual to secure the fecundity of nature,
we find cults of varying degrees of specificity, from the undoubt-
edly totemic increase ceremonies of Australian tribes to general-
ized nature cults, fertility rites and other magico-religious rituals,
such as rain-making ceremonies. Though these arc not totemic,
they reflect the same dependence of man on nature as lies at the
basis of true totemism, in which this dependence is interpreted in
terms of the social organization of the community.
6 . Voluntary Associations
We have so far dealt mainly with social groupings to which any
given individual is obliged to belong, cither through biological
necessity or social custom. As we have said at the outset, these are
by far the commonest types of grouping in primitive society,
which in this respect contrasts in a striking way with our own.
But in a limited number of primitive communities there exist
societies based on a voluntary membership, and these are usually
referred to as associations. Professor Lowie uses this term in a
much wider sense to describe “social units not based on the kin-
ship factor”, but the criterion of voluntary membership seems
preferable to this negative definition. It should be noted, however,
that the term “voluntary” in this context is a relative one, and
that, in the case of many primitive associations, social or economic
pressure upon the individual is often sufficient to make member-
ship obligatory, de facto if not de jure . This was apparently the case
in some of the Melanesian associations which we shall mention,
but even in these cases there were certain individuals who pre-
ferred to abstain from joining, a situation which could not arise in,
for example, kinship groupings or the ordinary type of age-grade.
Since members of associations in primitive society feel them-
selves to be a group distinct from the community at large, their
activities are frequently kept secret from non-members. Associa-
VOLUNTARY ASSOCIATIONS
207
tions in which this occurs arc known as secret societies, but it
must be noted that these differ from the corresponding organiza-
tions of modern society in that membership of the society is usually
not secret — on the contrary, the component individuals are proud
to have it known that they belong to the society. It is only the
actual proceedings of the society which are carried out in secret,
and in some primitive associations, such as the arioi of the Society
Islands, no element of secrecy is involved.
Secret societies are common, though by no means universal,
in Melanesian cultures. In the Banks Islands there were two dis-
tinct sets of such associations. There were societies called sukwe ,
whose habitats were long village club-houses or buildings called
gamal , and others called tamate , whose meeting-places were
buildings or open spaces in secluded places in the bush, called
salagoro. The sukwe were men’s clubs, divided into a number of
divisions or ranks, each having its distinctive name, and eating
and sleeping in a separate compartment of the gamal . Since almost
every man was a member of the sukwe , the gamal served to a con-
siderable extent for public services. Initiation into the sukwe
could take place at any period of a man’s life, from infancy to old
age, but the presumed time was the period of commencement of
puberty. Prior to initiation, he had to feed with the women.
There was a ceremony on initiation into the sukwe , and a cere-
mony on the occasion of each transition from a lower to a higher
rank. Each of these ceremonies involved costly presents to the
members of the sukwe . It was not necessary for a member to pass
through all the ranks beginning at the lowest. He could, on his
first initiation, pass directly into any of the other ranks; but the
extent to which this could be done was limited by considerations
of cost. The great mass of the people never rose above the middle
rank and many did not even reach that. Each rank of the sukwe
had a distinctive hat or mask connected with it, and membership
of the higher ranks involved special privileges, for example the
right to drink kava. There appears to have been very little element
of secrecy connected with the sukwe or its performances, and the
gamal was the general meeting-place of the village.
The other type of Banks Islands association, the tamate societies,
were very numerous. Membership was in nearly all cases confined
to men. A youth who did not become a member of one of them
did not take a position of social equality with those who did, and
would probably not marry. Secrecy was an essential and funda-
208
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
mental feature. The meeting-places of these societies, hidden
away in the bush, were taboo to the uninitiated and to women;
their masks (also called tamate ) might not be seen by women or
the uninitiated, except when the members were going about the
island, and the masks would not be closely observed. Some of the
societies had a practice of robbing the gardens and chasing or
terrifying the uninitiated. Others did not do this, but merely
came out to show their finery and dance in public. Initiation was
a subject of ceremony, and was in some cases followed by a period
of seclusion; but apparently no instruction was given to the
initiate beyond the disclosure of the modes in which the dresses
and masks were made and the mysterious sounds produced, and
the teaching of songs and dances. In most of the tamate societies
the neophytes had not to undergo any tortures or even hardships.
The Banks tamate societies had badges, used by their members as
taboo signs, to protect their gardens and property.
The sukwe and tamate were connected with each other. For
example, no one could pass above a certain rank in the sukwe ,
unless he had been initiated into the most important of the
tamate societies. There were also certain tamate societies which
were only open to persons who belonged to the sukwe . One of the
most important features of the sukwe and tamate societies was that
the determination of social rank and importance was largely
dependent on them. A chief who was not a member of both
societies would possess little authority or importance in com-
parison with one standing high in these organizations.
Another type of Melanesian association was the dukduk society
of New Britain. Its activities were of a seasonal character, com-
mencing in a period of the year when it was supposed to be born,
and ending with its illness and death in another period. Most of
its members were males, though apparently there were a few old
women connected with it. There were very few adult males who
were not members, whilst many boys as young as four or five years
were members. Membership was requisite for recognition of man-
hood and the uninitiated were laughed at and spoken of as
women. Dukduk was a secret society, and had its secret enclosure
called taraiu in the seclusion of the thick bush. In it were a few
houses which were used by the members, and in which the masks
were hung. The members had their feasts, dances and songs; and
during the period of their activities they used to live in seclusion.
From time to time parties dressed up in their fantastic garments
VOLUNTARY ASSOCIATIONS
aog
and masks went about the country whooping and dancing,
terrifying the women and uninitiated, and thus extorting gifts from
them, the belief being that these terrible-looking creatures were
spirits from the bush. The initiation of new members was a source
of great expense to the relatives of the initiates. The lads had to
submit to the terrors of armed attacks upon themselves, painful
strains upon their strength and powers of endurance and other
discomforts and annoyances. Here, as in the Banks Islands, the
initiates seem to have been taught nothing more than the decep-
tions involved in the terrifying performances of the society and the
steps of their dances, concerning all of which strict secrecy was
enjoined.
Voluntary associations are also found among several Amerindian
tribes, the Tobacco Society and secular clubs of the Crow being
the best-known examples. Membership of the Tobacco Society
was acquired by securing a sponsor who was already a member,
to whom a substantial fee was paid, and to whom the novice
subsequently referred as “father”. In addition, special fees were
paid for the acquisition of particular “medicines” or ornaments
connected with the society and for specific privileges, for example,
the right to occupy a position of honour in the ceremonial pro-
ceedings of the society. The original founder of the society was
believed to have been “fathered” into it by a supernatural being,
who instructed him to plant tobacco, this being the main privilege
of membership of the society. The ceremonial planting of tobacco
was believed to promote the welfare of the tribe, hence the social
distinction which it conveyed. In addition, members of the
society performed special songs and dances. Novices were
instructed in these during initiation, but no pain or hardship was
inflicted upon them. The Tobacco Society included numerous
“chapters”, among the members of which the fees paid by
novices were shared. A notable feature of this society was that it
included both men and women, and it was common to initiate a
man and his wife at the same time.
In addition to the religious association of the Tobacco Society,
the Crow had a number of secular clubs, all of which shared the
right to perform a particular dance. There was no formal initia-
tion, nor were membership fees exacted — in fact, as all these
clubs were anxious to increase their membership, individuals
were sometimes solicited to join by means of substantial gifts.
Unlike the Tobacco Society, they were not religious associations.
2X0
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
Their functions were partly military and partly economic. They
sought to gain renown in battle and carried out in rotation duties
analogous to those of a police force ; for example, the tribal chief
each year assigned to a particular club the duty of maintaining
order during the communal buffalo hunt. Because of the military
character of these clubs, membership was in general confined to
men, though women might occasionally be admitted. The
economic obligations of membership of the Crow clubs included
mutual assistance in communal labour and the raising of sub-
scriptions to enable one of their members to join the Tobacco
Society.
Social groupings founded on voluntary membership find their
highest development in the secret societies which are still common
in West Africa, though many of their original functions have dis-
appeared as a result of European influence. One such organiza-
tion was the Poro (or Porro) society found in Sierra Leone and
Liberia, particularly among the Mende. The Poro was essentially
a men’s society 1 and women were admitted only under excep-
tional circumstances and even then only into the lowest grades.
The Poro is believed to have had a supernatural origin, though
there are different legendary accounts of how it came to be
founded. The Poro had no centralized organization, but consisted
of a series of local lodges, each with its own officials. Each lodge
met at a special place, colloquially known as the Poro “bush”,
usually adjacent to a town. Here was situated the grave of the
founder of the lodge, and those of other notable past members.
This spot was strictly taboo to women and non-members, the
direst penalties being exacted for trespass. Members of the Poro
spoke through a horn, producing a harsh nasal sound, and this
was explained to non-members who heard it as the voice of
“devils”. The Poro had a special sign, a spiral of ferns, an
elaborate paraphernalia, including drums, medicines and masks,
and a series of esoteric sayings and pass-words known only to
members. These, and the details of the proceedings of the society,
were a matter of the strictest secrecy. Each new member was
obliged to take an oath of secrecy, and failure to honour this
obligation was believed to lead to illness or even death.
Membership of the Poro was essential to the attainment of full
1 A corresponding organization for women, the Sande or Bundu, also existed and
served analogous functions. Like the Poro, the Sande is still active today, though in a
somewhat altered form.
VOLUNTARY ASSOCIATIONS a 1 1
adult male status, and young men were not allowed to marry or
have sexual intercourse until they had been initiated. Before
joining they had to be circumcised, but this did not admit them
to the Poro, which had its own initiation rites carried out at the
Poro “bush”. The novice paid a fee to members of the society on
joining, and was taken to the bush, where marks were cut upon
his back with a razor to indicate membership of the society. In
this and Other hardships which he was forced to undergo he was
expected to display fortitude and self-discipline. He was in-
structed in the esoteric practices of the society, in tribal custom,
in recreational activities such as singing and drumming, and
sometimes in native crafts. At a later stage he might undergo a
further course of training and, by the payment of the appropriate
fees, move up into higher grades of the society.
The Poro served important functions among the Mende and
other West African tribes. It was a mechanism for the indoctrina-
tion of youths in tribal standards, and linked together members
scattered over a wide area, irrespective of their local and kinship
affiliations. It was important politically, and no man could hope
to attain political power unless he were a member of the society,
which played a leading part in the selection of chiefs and arbi-
trated in disputes between important members of the community.
The officials played a leading part at civil ceremonies connected
with the inauguration, illness and death of chiefs. The chief was
expected to preserve the interests of the Poro society, and in
return received customary presents and also services from its
junior members, such as help in the cultivation of his rice farm.
The Poro was also important economically, regulating trading
practices over a wide area and fixing fair prices for commodities
and services. In the discharge of all these political and economic
functions, the authority of the Poro was supported by the belief
in its supernatural significance, that it was in direct contact with
the spirit world, and by the punishments, both real and super-
natural, which followed from a breach of Poro rules . 1
A voluntary association of an entirely different kind was the
arioi of the Society Islands. This was an association of men and
1 The cultural significance of the Poro in pre-European times is reflected in the
way in which its major political and economic aspects have largely survived up to the
present, while modern conditions have led it to assume new functions in spite of
Government opposition, the hostility of Moslems, and the general breakdown of
tribal custom. It is still the main agency in preserving indigenous social code* and in
uniting individuals of different groups, scattered over a wide area, by the possession
of a common cultural tradition.
212 SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
women whose principal function was to provide entertainment.
Highly organized and numerically very strong in ancient times,
it decayed rapidly under the influence of missionaries, who were
from the first violently antagonistic towards the whole institution,
mainly because of the sexual practices and the rule of infanticide
associated with it.
The arioi society was organized into a hierarchy composed of
eight orders, marked off from each other by the different tattoo
marks and decorations of their members. Initiates were first
introduced into the lowest order with elaborate ceremony, and
passed successively through the various grades, though few
reached the highest rank of all, a privilege which could only be
bestowed by the high chief. Each transition from one grade to
another was ceremonially celebrated.
Statements as to the qualifications for membership are con-
flicting, some observers stating that membership was restricted to
people of high rank and others that members of the lower classes
might be admitted. Probably the reconciliation of these two
opinions is to be found in the statement of one observer that
membership of the arioi was an expensive matter, which would
mean that, though there might not be any rigid ban upon
membership for people of the lower orders, it would be restricted
de facto to men of wealth and rank. But the essential qualifications
for membership were that the initiates should be childless, and
that they should be under the inspiration of the gods.
Membership of the arioi, and particularly of its upper grades,
was a high honour, and a perfect knowledge of its poems and
songs made its members sacred and favourites of the gods. Even
after death an arioi could expect pleasures for which few others
could hope.
The principal function of the arioi was to provide public
entertainment. They wandered about the islands presenting per-
formances for the delectation of the populace at large, being sup-
ported at the public expense. Their entertainment consisted of
songs, speeches, recitations, dramatic presentations, dancing and
sports. In these they were allowed to ridicule chiefs and other
people of high rank with impunity. Many of their performances
were, by European standards, extremely obscene, and free sexual
practices were associated with their activities.
An interesting feature of the arioi society was its rule of infanti-
cide. The killing of newly bom children was practised fairly
VOLUNTARY ASSOCIATIONS a 1 3
generally throughout the Society Islands, but in the case of
members of the arioi it was obligatory, and failure to observe the
rule meant ignominious expulsion.
The arioi was such an unusual and highly specialized institution
that the interpretation of its functions is not easy. Organized in
the first place to provide public entertainment, it seems to have
been a powerful integrative force in the community. Each im-
portant district had its arioi house and its arioi “comedian”, and
these served for the entertainment of visitors. Their roving habits,
together with the freemasonry which existed among them, did
much to cement bonds between distant districts and to promote
goodwill generally, while their right to lampoon the chiefs
allowed of criticism which would otherwise have been impossible.
Moreover, the feasting, sexual gratification and inversion of
ordinary modes of life associated with their practices probably
provided a relief from the humdrum round of orderly existence.
It seems probable that the explanation of their rule of infanti-
cide is to be found along this line, the responsibilities of parent-
hood being inconsistent with a life concentrated upon enjoyment,
relaxation and self-indulgence, which would provide the populace
at large with entertainment as well as a sort of vicarious satisfac-
tion for their anti-social tendencies.
In spite of its frivolous character, the arioi society had an im-
portant magico-religious aspect. Its patron deity was Oro, god of
war. But when associated with the society he was referred to as
Oro-i-te-tea-moe (Oro-of-the-spear-laid-down), and was repre-
sented by an emblem formed by three spears so placed as to form
a triangle. The legendary origin of the arioi is attributed to Oro
and members of the society performed religious ceremonies
invoking this god. These ceremonies were carried out on the ad-
mission of a new member, on setting out on an expedition, upon
arrival, and upon returning home again. In addition to this, the
arioi appear to have served specific religious functions in perpetuat-
ing the legends of the cosmogony and of the gods, which they
translated into songs and dramatic scenes; and they seem on
occasion to have invoked the gods to obtain fertility in times of
dearth. Their members, as we have seen, were specially favoured
by the gods, and entered the society under their inspiration.
Altogether, it cannot be doubted that, in addition to its functions
as an institution for public recreation, the arioi society possessed a
profound religious significance.
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
214
Before concluding our discussion of the principle of voluntary
association, we must refer briefly to a type of “grouping” which
consists of only two individuals, the relationship between whom
is described either as blood brotherhood or bond friendship
according to whether the relationship is regarded as one of
fictional kinship or merely as an institutionalized form of friend-
ship. Thus, among the Baganda, every man had from one to six
blood-brothers, either found for him by his father or chosen by
himself. At the ceremony establishing the relationship, each man
ate a coffee bean anointed with the blood of the other, and this
was believed to remain in the stomach, and to swell up and kill
the individual if he should break the compact. Each of the two
men then took a spear and a knife, which he placed behind him,
to indicate his readiness to protect his blood-brother from vio-
lence, and the ceremony concluded with a feast. This ceremonial
did not admit a man to full membership of his blood-brother’s
clan, but he was partly assimilated to it and observed its totemic
taboos and rules of exogamy. Moreover, members of the clan
addressed him by the same kinship terms as they applied to his
blood-brother (that is, their own clansman) and admitted him to
clan ceremonies. Blood brotherhood implied mutual aid and
support, which in some cases was even more marked than in the
case of actual kinship — for example, a murderer could count on
finding refuge with his blood-brother, even if the latter were a
relative of his victim.
In Tikopia a somewhat similar kind of relationship exists, but
it is not interpreted in terms of kinship, nor is one partner assim-
ilated to the clan of the other. The Tikopia relationship is there-
fore best called “bond friendship”, in fact, the native term for it is
tau soa , that is, people linked together as friends, or soa . Bond
friendship is established voluntarily by two young men who
ritually chew betel together, a single nut and leaf being divided
between them. This expresses symbolically the obligation between
bond-friends to share their possessions with each other — as the
Tikopia say, “ soa eat equally”. There is no magico-religious sanc-
tion for bond friendship in Tikopia — the relationship is main-
tained by the mutual benefits which arise from it. Bond-friends
exchange gifts and visits from time to time, they assist each other
in economic affairs and give mutual protection in situations of
danger. Finally, a man confides his love-affairs to his bond-friend,
who assists him by denying any scandal which might arise — for
VOLUNTARY ASSOCIATIONS
215
example, if a young man is accused of having spent the night
with a girl, his bond-friend will say: “Oh no! He and I slept
together.” A bond-friend in Tikopia, however, does not act as a
go-between in his partner’s love-affairs, as does the soa in Samoa.
7. The Integration of Social Groupings
We have now dealt with the major types of social groupings
found in primitive societies, with the exception of those based on
economic and on inagico-rcligious functions, which will be dis-
cussed in Chapters VII and X. In conclusion, we must refer to
some more general characteristics of social organization in primi-
tive communities. In the first place, we have separated the differ-
ent types of social groupings for descriptive purposes according to
the principles of organization upon which they are founded —
kinship, age, sex, locality and so on. But it must be emphasized
that two or more of these principles may be operative in the
constitution of any given social group — thus, in the Tongan aris-
tocracy the principles of kinship, political authority and religious
status are all operative in determining the rights and obligations
of different individuals and groups within the community.
Similarly, the solidarity of the Australian horde is founded, not
only upon common residence, but also upon bonds of kinship,
common economic pursuits within the horde territory, and
joint participation in such magico-religious rituals as increase
ceremonies. Furthermore, it is often difficult to classify precisely
any given form of social group according to the principles which
we have outlined. This is particularly true of voluntary associa-
tions. Thus the Tobacco Society of the Crow might be classified
as a religious grouping, in view of the important magico-religious
implications of the planting of tobacco, while the secular clubs
might be classified either as economic, political or recreational
groupings according to the various functions which they subserve.
Again, in the case of the Poro, there is an increasing tendency for
all males to be initiated, and the fact that non-members are for-
bidden to marry indicates that the term “voluntary association”
can only be applied to this organization with some qualification.
Finally, the Yako have secret societies similar to those found else-
where in West Africa, but membership is hereditary 1 and obliga-
1 In conformity with the system of double unilateral descent of the Yako, a man
may inherit membership of a secret society in either the patrilineal or the matrilineal
line.
s.a. 1 — 16
2l6
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
tory, so that the principle of voluntary membership is here re-
placed by that of kinship affiliation.
Finally, we must emphasize the integration of social groupings
and of principles of social organization, that is, the manner in
which they overlap and interlock in such a way as to define the
conduct of the individual in any given social situation. We re-
ferred in Section 3 to the homogeneity of cultural standards in
primitive society. This is correlated with the fact that the obliga-
tions entailed in membership of different social groupings tend, in
general, to reinforce one another. It is true that conflicts of loyalty
do occasionally arise, for example, between obligations towards
consanguineous kin on the one hand and affinal kin on the other,
or between the demands of voluntary associations against those
of kinship groupings. But these instances are of minor importance
compared with the vast majority of cases in which different
principles of social organization reinforce each other — for
example, in the complementary character of political authority
and wealth, in the support given to political power by secret
societies, and in the strengthening of kinship tics by common resi-
dence in such groupings as the extended family.
8 . Bibliographical Commentary
As a general discussion of social grouping in primitive com-
munities, Lowie (1) may again be cited. For surveys of particular
areas in Africa see Schapera (1), Hambly (1), Seligman (1), and
for Amerindian peoples Wissler (2), Hodge (1, article on “Social
Organization”), and relevant sections of the chapters in Steward
(1 and 2). Elkin (3) and Radcliffe-Brown (2) provide material
on Australia, while Firth (5 and 8) and Hogbin (2) give descrip-
tions of different types of Polynesian social grouping. For Melan-
esia see the various works on the Trobriand Islands by Malinowski,
but it must be remembered that this culture is in several respects
atypical for Melanesia (p. 74), and reference should also be
made to Blackwood (1), Hogbin (5 and 7), Deacon (1), Powder-
maker (1), and Kaberry (2).
There is no detailed survey of local organization as such, but
most modern field records contain maps, plans and photographs
which convey a vivid impression of the character of local group-
ing. Reference should also be made to Forde (1) for a wide com-
parative study of the territorial and geographical implications of
different types of social grouping. For a valuable discussion of
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL COMMENTARY
217
terms such as “tribe” (in which a conclusion somewhat different
from that adopted here is reached), see Nadel (4). On the Maori
pa as a specialized type of local grouping, see Firth (4).
The best available discussion of the place of women in a primi-
tive society is Kaberry (1), and though this deals with one culture
only, it disposes incidentally of many popular fallacies regarding
the place of women in primitive society. See also Hunter (1),
Little (2), Thurnwald, H. (1), and Wedgwood (4). Though the
first two of these deal primarily with the effects of culture contact,
they provide incidentally an indication of the position of women in
the indigenous cultures.
There is no comprehensive discussion of initiation ceremonies
as such, but descriptions of these rites among particular peoples
are contained in a number of field records, notably Firth (8),
Evans-Pritchard (3), Deacon (1), Elkin (3) and Piddington (2).
The best available descriptions of primitive educational systems
are Fortes (1) and Raum (2). Reference may also be made to the
more superficial accounts given in Mead (2 and 3).
The best comparative survey of political institutions is the
collection of essays by various writers in Fortes and Evans-
Pritchard (1), the preface to which contains a valuable discussion
by Professor Radcliffe-Brown of the principles of segmentation
and stratification in primitive political organizations. Among
other field records which pay particular attention to political
organization are Nadel (4) and Wilson (3). On the relation
between wealth and prestige in various primitive societies, see
the descriptions of the Potlatch given in Goldenweiser (1),
Murdock (1) and Forde (1) and the critical review contained in
Barnett (1). For studies of other communities in which wealth is
closely related to prestige and political power, see Hogbin (5)
and Stevenson (1).
A valuable account of certain aspects of political organization
among the Mende is contained in Hofstra (1). On the political
organization of the Hehe, consult Brown and Hutt (1). The
material on Tonga in this chapter is founded mainly upon un-
published notes communicated by Professor Radcliffe-Brown to
the late R. W. Williamson and also upon Gifford (1) ; the Tongan
material is more fully discussed in Piddington (4) . On the political
organization of the Natchez, consult Swanton (1), Macleod (1),
and for a critical review of certain apparent anomalies in the
system see Hart (1).
2l8
SOCIAL ORGANIZATION
There is no modern comparative survey of the phenomena of
totemism. Frazer (i) contains much material from the older field
records, while Golden weiser (2) contains a valuable essay,
“Totemism, An Analytical Study”, which is, however, more
significant in its destructive criticism than in its positive contri-
bution. A most valuable comparative study of totemism in a
particular ethnographic province is Elkin (2) and the shorter
account in Elkin (3). The totemic systems specially mentioned
in this chapter and elsewhere in the present book are described
in Firth (7), Roscoe (1), Mair (3) and Piddington (1). Valuable
incidental references to different varieties of totemism are con-
tained in Murdock (1).
On various types of secret society and other forms of voluntary
association, consult Humphrey (1), Lowie (1), Little (1), Pidding-
ton (4), Wedgwood (1), and Williamson (2). On blood brother-
hood and bond friendship in different primitive societies, sec
Evans-Pritchard (1), Mair (3) and Firth (9).
On the observations contained in Section 7, no specific reading
can be prescribed. Only by the perusal of several modern ethno-
graphic records can the reader gain an idea of the many ways in
which different types of social grouping interact and interlock
in various primitive societies. In this connection, special reference
may be made to Firth (8, 10 and 11), Evans-Pritchard (3) and,
though the problems dealt with arc somewhat advanced for the
beginner, Fortes (3) and Nadel (4).
CHAPTER VI
THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
/. The Instrumental Function of Human Culture
Having surveyed briefly and superficially some of the types of
culture and forms of social organization found among primitive
peoples, we may now turn to the more detailed scientific analysis
of culture. We saw in Chapter I that culture is essentially an
adaptive mechanism, making possible the satisfaction of human
needs, both biological and social. It is not a thing of shreds and
patches, or an agglomeration of beliefs and customs unrelated to
one another. A mere catalogue of items of culture tells us nothing
of their dynamic functions in relation to the needs of any given
community or of the complex interrelationships existing between
them. The study of these constitutes the real task of scientific
social anthropology.
The first principle of cultural organization is the constitution
of the human organism. The conception of man as an animal is
essential to the study of his culture, because all cultures have a
common basis in the biological and psychological characteristics
of man. Of special importance in this connection are:
1. The needs which man shares with other animals; and
2. Specifically human characteristics and needs arising from
man’s unique physical and mental constitution.
In the first group of needs, the most important are for food, self-
preservation and the reproduction of the species, together with
other physiological requirements associated with breathing,
sleep, the slaking of thirst and so on. Such requirements are known
as primary needs .
As regards the second group, we have already referred in
Chapter I to the importance of physical anthropology in describ-
ing the features which distinguish man from the lower animals,
and particularly from those most closely related to him, namely,
the anthropoid apes and other sub-human primates . 1
1 A useful classification of the Primate Order is as follows;
x. Man.
220
THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
The most important physical aspects in which man differs
from the apes and other sub-human primates are:
1. He has attained a fully erect posture.
2. His foot is designed to support rather than to grasp, while
his hands are specialized for manipulation.
3. His brain is larger and more complex. Thus the human
brain is about three times the volume of that of the gorilla.
At some stage in man’s ascent, his tree-dwelling ancestors,
whose hands had gradually assumed a manipulative function,
exchanged an arboreal life for a terrestrial one, and this was
correlated with the adoption of the erect posture. The feet like-
wise became specialized for support and locomotion, and the
hands could then be devoted wholly to the delicate movements
entailed, for example, in the making of tools. A captive ape may
use a stick to drag a banana into its cage, but it does not modify
the shape of the stick or of any other material object to achieve
its ends. Man is the only tool-making animal.
Man’s brain, besides being much larger than that of any ape,
is structurally more complex in those areas which are devoted to
the functions of vision, speech, memory, imagination and the
higher intellectual activities in general. The latter parts of the
brain are known as the association areas , and make it possible for
the organism to profit by experience. The difference is, of course,
a relative one, but is nevertheless of the utmost significance. Man
2. The anthropoid (or man-like) apes, namely the Gorilla, the Chimpanzee, the
Orang-Utan and the Gibbon. (The ordinary word “anthropoid”, which
refers to these apes only, must not be confused with the wider technical term
anthropoids a, which covers man, apes and monkeys.)
3. The old-world monkeys, including baboons.
4. The new-world monkeys.
5. Tarsius.
6. The lemurs.
7. Tree shrews ( ?)
On the subjec t of man’s relationship to the anthropoid apes, it is perhaps necessary to
correct a popular misconception. Man is not descended from a primate closely re-
sembling any of the present-day apes. Both arose from a common ancestral stock,
from which they became differentiated in the course of evolution. The incorrect and
correct formulations may be represented thus:
MAN
t
ANCESTOR RESEMBLINO COMMON
PRESENT- DAY APES ANCESTOR
INCORRECT CORRECT
MAN APES
INSTRUMENTAL FUNCTION OF HUMAN CULTURE 221
lives by acquired behaviour, that is to say, by habit based on
memory, rather than by instinct, as do many lower animals. The
ratio of acquired to instinctive behaviour is highest in the case of
man.
This development o 1 acquired behaviour means that young
human beings reach maturity much more slowly than the young of
other animals. They are for a long time quite helpless, and must,
over a period of several years, learn the types of behaviour which
will enable them and their community to survive.
Man alone among the animals possesses the power of speech,
which is based upon special anatomical developments, not only
in the so-called organs of speech, but also in the parts of the brain
controlling such a function. This fact is vital to an understanding of
human culture, since speech enables men to co-operate in common
tasks, to give and receive orders, and to acquire the understanding
necessary to action. It is also a medium for the passing on of cultural
knowledge and tradition from one generation to the next.
The primary needs of man and the special characteristics and
needs that have arisen in the course of human evolution make
possible (indeed make necessary) the creation of culture, which is
the specifically human form of biological adaptation. We therefore
consider culture, not merely as a set of stereotyped traditional
human reactions, but in terms of its instrumental function in satisfying
the needs of man as a highly integrated type of organism.
2 . Primary Needs
The satisfaction of the primary needs of the human organism,
that is, the needs which man shares with other animals, assumes
specific forms. Thus, man’s need for food is not satisfied simply
and directly, as in the case of the lower animals. Bodily, he is but
poorly equipped for food-getting. But the endowment of culture
which each human group possesses makes good this deficiency.
Weapons for hunting, implements for agriculture, nets and hooks
for fishing, and techniques connected with the tending of cattle
are among the cultural responses produced by man’s need for
food in primitive society. In more advanced cultures improved
techniques have enabled him progressively to increase his food
supply until it rises well above the subsistence level, thus providing
an economic surplus which makes possible the development of
civilization and increased opportunities for intellectual, aesthetic
and recreational development.
222
THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
But the use of weapons and implements in food-getting by no
means exhausts the cultural responses to the need for food. Collec-
tive food-getting activities occur in all cultures, together with some
division of labour. Among a hunting and food-gathering people
such as the Australian aborigines, collective food-getting often
occurs from purely social motives. Women join together to gather
food in small groups, not because it increases their efficiency, but
merely from the desire for companionship and interest in common
activities. But even in Australia we find types of communal
hunting and fishing which necessitate organized co-operation
between human beings. In agricultural communities, with their
more systematized and planned ecology, this tendency is more
marked, while civilized levels of human culture would be un-
thinkable without the economic specialization and interdepend-
ence which are invariably associated with them.
The collective production of food entails some regulation of its
distribution, so that all members of the community, particularly
those incapable of fending for themselves, shall receive a share.
Thus, in the family, household and village we always find princi-
ples of distribution by which portions of the food supply are allo-
cated to the component members of the group. Sometimes this
system of distribution is highly formalized, as when specific
portions of a beast or large fish or of the harvest are traditionally
allocated to specific kinsfolk or functionaries. Even when the
pattern of distribution is less formal, it is always socially signifi-
cant. Food thus acquires a social value which is reflected in rules
of etiquette, good manners and fair play, which govern its distri-
bution and consumption. Finally, for reasons which will become
apparent, in communities whose food supply is precarious (and
this is more or less the case in the vast majority of primitive com-
munities), there arise magical and religious observances designed
to increase or maintain the food supply and to guard against the
dangers, real or putative, connected with the production and
consumption of food. The complex systems of knowledge, tcchno-
logy, sentiment, social practice and magico-religious usage by
which the need for food is satisfied and regulated in any given
culture has been termed the nutritional system.
Other individual physiological processes . — In addition to the need
for food, other basic physiological needs must be provided for, as
for example the need to breathe, to drink, to rest from time to
time, and to eliminate waste products from the system. Biolog-
PRIMARY NEEDS
223
ically, these requirements are quite as imperative as the need for
food, in that the organism could not survive if they remained un-
satisfied. Culturally, however, they are less significant, because
under normal conditions their satisfaction does not present a major
cultural problem. Apart from accidents such as drowning or
smothering, air is usually freely available under primitive condi-
tions ; in general this is also true of water, since completely arid
areas of the world could never in any case be inhabited because of
the lack of animal and vegetable food ; the need for rest provides
its own satisfaction, ultimately in the complete collapse of the
organism from exhaustion; finally, the processes of excretion, in
village communities ignorant of the principles of hygiene, do not
require elaborate organization, though they are generally con-
trolled by customary practices of decency and delicacy, and often
by beliefs in magic.
Lest it should therefore appear superfluous to mention these
basic physiological processes in connection with the analysis of
culture, two groups of facts connected with them must be men-
tioned. In the first place, they may, under certain circumstances ,
assume cultural significance. The need for air becomes important
when it is necessary to reconcile this with protection against the
weather, that is, to secure at the same time both warmth and
ventilation. The Eskimo winter house is a good example of such
an adjustment in a primitive community. In our own society,
such specific occupational groups as divers and airmen flying at
high altitudes require special arrangements to make respiration
possible; where water is scarce, such adjustments as wells, goat-
skin bags and the tapping of water-bearing trees are cultural
adjustments connected with thirst; and congested urban condi-
tions, especially when combined with a knowledge of the elements
of hygiene and highly developed aesthetic standards, lead to elabor-
ate systems of sanitation and sewerage.
In the second place, while special cultural arrangements are not
absolutely necessary in order to provide for rest and sleep, they
do occur to facilitate it, and variously take the form of beds,
bunks, sleeping-mats and head-rests ; in our own society the condi-
tions of modern warfare lead to air-raid shelters and other pro-
visions for rest under conditions of stress, while opiates and seda-
tives are employed to meet the needs of individuals under special
conditions of bodily or mental ill-health. In regard to the other
physiological processes mentioned, there are many examples of
224 THE principles of cultural analysis
specific cultural adjustments which, while not essential to bio-
logical survival, nevertheless facilitate the satisfaction of the needs
concerned, and harmonize this satisfaction with cultural stand-
ards — pragmatic, moral, aesthetic and magico-religious.
Defence against , and infiction of bodily injury . — Anatomically, man
is poorly equipped for conflict. This is particularly important
when he has to cope with lions, tigers, wolves and other fierce
and powerful adversaries. In most cultures he has to protect him-
self against attack from other human communities, and in war-
like societies to devise mechanisms of aggression against them.
This need is met by the manufacture of artefacts, such as armour,
stockades, shields, spears, traps, snares, pi thills, bows and arrows,
by which he can protect himself against injury from other organ-
isms or inflict injury upon them. In hunting communities the
latter is an essential economic activity. Apart from purely material
apparatus, cultural techniques of forest lore and principles of
tactics and strategy arise in connection with the institutions of
hunting and warfare respectively. Finally, both of these hazardous
activities are invariably associated with a series of legal rules,
ceremonial observances, taboos and other magico-religious
beliefs and practices.
Protection against climate . — Man is the only organism which can
survive in any climate which will provide a food supply, though
this is also true of such animals as the dog and the rat in so far as
they attach themselves to human habitations. Man can live in any
environment, from the Sahara to the Arctic, only because of his
heritage of culture, which is always adapted to the environment
in which he lives. The specialized adjustments of the Eskimo and
of the Australian aborigines provide striking examples of this,
and of the way in which social activities, both economic and
ceremonial, are adapted to seasonal variations in climate. It
must be emphasized that, while the protection provided by
habitations and clothing is not biologically essential in temper-
ate and hot climates, they nevertheless usually occur, providing
certain standards of comfort, decency and display as distinct from
biological survival.
Sex. — While, from one point of view, the need for food is the
most important requirement of man, and certainly determines the
major part of his activities under primitive conditions, the
emotions connected with sex have always played a vital, and at
times dominant, part in human destiny. Fully consummated,
PRIMARY NEEDS
225
sex produces the highest of spiritual experiences, both in its own
gratification and in the joys of parenthood; frustrated, it leads to
despair and neurosis, or brings out all that is base in human
nature through the passionate destructiveness of revenge and
jealousy. From time to time it bursts the flood-gates of social
control and brings about far-reaching consequences in the des-
tinies of human beings.
The reason for this is obvious, when we remember that man is
an animal, in whose evolution the reproductive urge has played
an essential part; but he is also a social being, whose headstrong
passions must be curbed in the interests of social life. This is
effected, on the one hand, by limiting the sexual impulses of the
individual through the operation of laws, moral rules and
aesthetic standards; and, on the other, by giving expression to
these impulses through socially recognized channels, which draw
upon the power of the sexual instinct for the creation of social
institutions. Sex is not merely suppressed. It is actually harnessed
in the interests of social life, and so comes to reinforce the very
restrictions which limit its activity.
Thus it comes about that in all cultures we find social mechan-
isms for the satisfaction and restriction of the sexual impulse.
Positively, this is allowed expression sporadically through such
institutions as the bachelors’ houses of the Trobrianders and the
Kikuyu, through wife-lending, or by the de facto toleration of
liaisons which are officially condemned. The sexual impulse uni-
versally finds expression in the relationship of marriage. On the
negative side there exist rules prohibiting incest and adultery, as
well as numerous special restrictions and taboos governing sexual
relations at specific times or between specific persons.
Reproduction. — Biologically, sex is causally linked \vith repro-
duction, and it might be argued that both activities together form
the basis of a single cultural system. But it is useful to draw a
distinction between them, particularly in connection with com-
munities which do not recognize the causal relation or who attach
little importance to it. It cannot be too strongly emphasized
that while copulation is a demonstrable physiological relation-
ship between two individuals, culturally recognized as such,
parenthood is essentially a social relationship depending upon a
system of beliefs, social values and legal rules linking together
the members of the individual family — father, mother and
children. This is clearly seen in polyandrous communities such as
226 THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
the Todas; here the performance of the bow and arrow cere-
mony establishes paternity as between the various husbands of a
woman, any one of whom may be the biological parent of the
child concerned. It is true that in most societies the physiological
relationship between father and mother is held to have some
relevance to parenthood, and is often the main criterion, as it is
in our own culture. But even in modern society, with its advanced
biological knowledge and emphasis upon sexual paternity, the
practice of adoption provides a legal and social basis for a form of
parenthood defined in purely cultural terms. This is even more
striking in the case of communities such as Manus, where the
practice of adoption is far more widespread.
Though the purely sexual aspect of reproduction may receive
little or no emphasis, the conditions of pregnancy and childbirth
are invariably connected with social observances and ritual
practices, determined partly by the dangers connected with them
and partly by their social importance. But childbirth is not the
end of the reproductive process in the human species. The young
require care and protection during infancy and childhood, and
from this fact emerge the rules connected with the care of the
infants and young children, as well as traditional arrangements
for the care of orphans.
Health . — Here we come to an entry which might be regarded
as a summary of the preceding ones. In its positive sense it implies
no more nor less than the full satisfaction of all the other primary
needs. But this is an ideal never attained in practice. The health
of individuals is menaced by the dangers of injury and disease,
and these always produce some form of cultural response.
Medical science in modern civilization is the most complex
example, and its multifarious medical and surgical techniques
illustrate how any physiological maladjustment may, under the
appropriate conditions, give rise to a specialized cultural response . 1
1 The developments of medical science during the past few decades suggest that
our statement that health is co-terminous with the full satisfaction of primary needs
might be extended to include also the social and spiritual needs of man. The growth
of the science of nutrition and of preventive medicine has increasingly stressed the fact
that biological health is essential to the most efficient functioning of a community.
Psychiatry has given an entirely new conception of mental ill-health, typified in the
transition from the straight-jacket to modern techniques of psychotherapy, techniques
which postulate the existence of psychological and social needs or drives, the frustra-
tion of which may lead to maladjustment. Finally, the development of social medicine
lays stress upon an even wider conception of health, which postulates as an ideal a
cultural environment in which individual organisms may develop their potentialities,
both biological and psychological, to the full.
PRIMARY NEEDS
227
In primitive society there is an almost complete lack of effective
prophylactic and therapeutic measures; both the promotion of
health and attempts to cure illness belong to the province of
magic and religion. In this field, however, they play, as we shall
see, a vital part in culture, specifically in their relation to the
observance of social rules and moral codes.
jj. Derived Needs
Our survey of the more important primary needs of man
shows that they are always satisfied, regulated and evaluated in
terms of cultural standards, social, ceremonial, legal and magico-
religious. In all parts of the world human beings gather together
in communities whose activities are regulated by their peculiar
form of cultural adjustment. Though man possesses basic bio-
logical needs comparable with those of the other primates, these
nowhere find direct and indiscriminate satisfaction. The smallest
biologically viable unit — the individual family — never occurs in
isolation, as it does among the anthropoid apes. For one thing, it
is incapable of adequate self-defence, and it could never develop
and transmit human culture as wc understand it. Even the smallest
of communities, such as the nomadic bands of the Australian
aborigines, differ from the gregarious groupings of primates such
as baboons.
This is not a numerical difference, but one which concerns the
whole determination of individual and group behaviour. No-
where in human society is the sexual association of individuals
regulated merely by dominance of physically powerful males —
instead the regulations of marriage, and of other forms of sexual
association, are rigidly laid down on the basis of culturally re-
cognized status, rank, kinship, age or economic privilege. Food-
getting, as we have seen, is never a matter of individual acquisi-
tion nor yet of casual sharing — it is always regulated by the
economic and legal rules governing the production of food, which
always entail a certain amount of co-operation and planning,
and by culturally recognized systems of distribution and consump-
tion. Under no circumstances do personal antagonisms lead to
direct and unregulated physical retaliation as they do among the
primates — the duel, the action at law or the milder sanctions of
the frown or the sneer are cultural expressions of the impulse
towards personal retaliation. Even where direct unarmed physical
retaliation occurs, it is almost universally regulated by Marquess
228 THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
of Quecnsberry rules or similar social codes. Finally, the relations
of individuals to each other are not merely a matter of individual
instinct and habit — they depend upon the cultural recognition of
individuals as occupying a specific position in a social structure.
This position may, and in fact does, change from time to time —
the boy becomes a man, the spinster becomes a wife, the layman
becomes a priest. But such changes only become real, in a cultural
sense, when they are recognized by society.
The specific character of individual relationships in human,
as distinct from animal, communities is vividly exemplified by the
fact of death. When a female baboon is killed in a “sexual fight”,
the males continue to quarrel over the body and to use it as a
sexual object; a mother baboon or monkey will continue to carry
the body of her offspring about for many days after death,
sometimes until it is almost completely decomposed. She clings
to the dead body, presses it to her breasts, picks through its hair,
and treats it precisely as she did when it was alive, suggesting
failure to recognize the fact of death. Contrast this with the
elaborate cultural reactions to death in human communities —
mortuary ceremonial, mourning, beliefs in immortality and
ancestor-worship. Instances of cultural or metaphorical death
should also be noted; for example, the fictional death and re-
birth of initiates. Like all the biological characteristics of man,
death is culturally interpreted and evaluated by every human
community.
The fact that man can only survive and satisfy his biological
needs through human communities regulated by human culture
implies that man has certain derived needs, that is, needs which
he does not share with the lower animals, but which are derived
from the conditions of his collective life. Thus, we have referred
to the long period of immaturity of the young. During this period
they must learn to adapt themselves to their environment, geo-
graphical and social. This adaptation can only be achieved by
assimilating culture, with its systems of technological and
practical knowledge and its co-ordinated system of social senti-
ments and values. Since it would be impossible for any single
individual in a lifetime to acquire this complex body of knowl-
edge, belief and sentiment, the heritage of culture must be passed
on from one generation to the next. Thus, the derived need for the
conditioning of the young and for the transmission of culture invariably
leads to an educational system > which is conditioned partly by the
DERIVED NEEDS
229
biological characteristics of man and partly by the conditions of
his collective life.
The transmission of culture, as well as the day-to-day co-
operation upon which man depends for his subsistence and welfare,
would be impossible without some organized system of commu-
nication, some means whereby orders may be given, information
imparted and types of behaviour approved or condemned.
This need for communication is satisfied by man’s power of speech,
organized in the form of language , and also by other forms of
cultural symbolism.
We have seen that man employs, in the satisfaction of such bio-
logical needs as nutrition, protection against the weather and self-
defence, an equipment of artefacts which constitute the material
substratum of culture. The creation of this is made possible by
man’s manipulative ability. Without it human communities as
we know them could not exist, nor could they produce the
surplus food necessary to the development of advanced levels of
culture. The need for material satisfactions , which includes but goes
beyond the merely nutritional requirements of man, produces the
same types of cultural response as we have described in the case of
nutrition: artefacts must be produced by standardized techno-
logical processes, involving human co-operation which, in its
minimal form, is exemplified in the relation between teacher and
learner; the proper use of artefacts and their cultural significance
must be defined, whether the definition be purely utilitarian,
ceremonial or magico-religious ; finally, the distribution and owner-
ship of material objects must be subject to legal and moral rules.
Thus it is that the need for material satisfactions leads in every
culture to a system of technology, knowledge and social evaluations
embodied in the economic system of the community concerned.
The collective activities of man require organization. This is
most clearly seen when we contrast them with the gregarious
activities of the lower animals, which consist merely of the sum
total of a number of individual reactions, instinctive and habitual,
unregulated by tradition or by any system of common values and
motives. Thus male baboons in a “sexual fight” may kill one of the
females over which they are quarrelling. Contrast this with
hostilities between human groups, whether in clan fighting, in a
village brawl, or in the opposition of contending armies. Only by
accident is damage done to individuals not directly concerned,
and the whole procedure is governed by cultural standards of
THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
230
honour, loyalty and traditional antagonism. The same principles
apply, as we have seen, to the organization of economic pursuits,
as they do to all forms of human collective activity.
The organization of collective activities usually takes the form
of leadership by special individuals or groups — chiefs, priests,
technical experts or tribal councils. Such leadership may be
validated by principles, such as hereditary privilege, respect for
age, or magico-religious powers traditionally acquired. On the
other hand, it may arise as a result of a more or less spontaneous
reaction to the ability and skill of exceptionally intelligent in-
dividuals or forceful personalities.
But the term “leadership”, in its generally accepted meaning,
is too limited to cover all the cultural responses to the need for
organization. Very often the organization of activities is inherent
in the cultural definition of the activities themselves. An example
from our own society will make this clear. In a relay race, the
starter’s pistol inaugurates the activity, but thereafter each
member of the team knows precisely what to do, when and where
to run, and how to inaugurate the activity of the member who
follows him. The order of running may be decided by the ruling
of a captain, but might equally well be determined by general
agreement among members of the team. Here leadership plays a
negligible part, the organization of the activity being secured by
common knowledge of the procedure and rules of the game, as
well as by a common desire to win.
The same sort of principle applies to many collective activities
under primitive conditions. The ethnographer frequently wit-
nesses a group of natives discussing alternative projects — whether
to go fishing or hunting, when or where to hold a religious cere-
mony. The discussion proceeds, various opinions are expressed,
and suddenly the group will break up, having decided upon a
specific line of conduct without any orders having been given,
and even without any formal expression of a consensus of opinion.
While it is possible to observe that in such discussions the opinions
of certain individuals appear to carry more weight than those of
others, it is difficult to discern any form of leadership in the
generally accepted sense, while the whole procedure differs
radically from formal meetings in our own society with their
stylized procedure of motions, amendments and points of order.
Yet principles of organization exist, as is proved by the fact that
subsequent activities are carried out in a systematic and efficient
DERIVED NEEDS
231
way, each individual playing a traditionally defined part. Too
often the existence of this type of diffused authority has been
obscured in the study of primitive communities by such negative
statements as that “no form of leadership or authority exists”.
In the domestic arrangements of the individual family, again,
there is always a generally accepted definition of rights and
obligations as between father, mother and children, reflected
in the sexual division of labour and responsibility. Broadly
speaking, in the care of children, the preparation of food and
domestic arrangements, it is the woman who is primarily respon-
sible for the organization and the inauguration of necessary
activities; in the production of food, the respective rights and
responsibilities of men and women are usually divided ; while in
political, ceremonial and magico-religious matters, it is generally
the men who take the lead. It must be emphasized that such
divisions of functions in the organization of collective activity are
often not explicitly formulated. Since they are generally known
and accepted by everybody, this is not necessary. They must be
inferred from numerous individual observations of behaviour,
and particularly of cases in which individuals arc lax or incom-
petent in the discharge of their duties and the exercise of their
authority. The woman who cannot or will not organize the home,
the man who cannot or will not bring up his children in the way
they should go, provide, by contrast, striking illustrations of the
way in which informal, diffused, but culturally recognized
authority is exercised.
We must not let the paucity of our terminology blind us to the
fact that, even in the absence of explicit leadership, principles of
organization exist in all collective activities. In fact, explicitly
recognized leadership emerges only when these activities become
complex; when alternative lines of conduct appear possible or
desirable; when the interests of individuals or groups come into
conflict; when, in short, overt decisions on matters of policy must
be taken. There is a continuous series of forms of organization
from the diffuse types of traditional authority implicit in the
household to the explicit exercise of power in political systems,
embodied in the formal edicts of chiefs, tribal councils, parlia-
ments or dictators. These are but special examples of a universal
social process whereby the need for the organization of collective
activities leads to traditionally defined systems of co-operation , to leadership
and to forms of political authority .
8. A. f — 17
THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
232
In certain limited fields of human activity, the observation of
traditional rules of co-operation is ensured by the interests and
convenience of individuals. Meal hours and the sequence of
activities in daily life, which differ from one community to
another, are observed because there is normally no particular
urge to deviate from them; the provision of the household food
supply is ensured by the fact that its individual members would
otherwise go hungry; technological rules are observed because
of the demonstrable results which they achieve in the production
of efficient and valuable artefacts; and the banding together of
the community for defence is dictated by the common danger to
its component individuals.
But in most fields of human activity, culture from time to time
makes demands upon the individual’s capacity for altruism and
self-sacrifice. Food is produced, not merely for the consumption
of the household, hunting party or other food-producing group,
but also for the making of gifts to kinsfolk, the entertainment of
guests, and the provision of tribute for chiefs; the production of
artefacts often calls for the expenditure of wearying or tiresome
effort; warfare, and particularly aggressive warfare, calls for
sacrifice and courage which do not subserve, but actually run
counter to, the individual urge towards self-preservation. When-
ever the demands of culture thus frustrate the aspirations or
desires of the individual, and particularly when the compulsive
human passions of lust, greed, vanity, fear and anger are involved,
we always find some individuals who shirk, evade or flout the
obligations imposed upon them by society. When breaches of law
and custom occur in this way, there exist mechanisms of restraint
and punishment, means whereby the wrongdoer is punished,
others are deterred from similar action, and society expresses its
horror, disgust or disapproval, thus affirming the moral senti-
ments upon which it depends for its existence. Society likewise
provides rewards, both material and social, for conduct con-
forming to its particular set of cultural values. It is impossible to
conceive of any society which could survive without sanctions of
law and morality. Thus, the need for social conlrol leads to the
sanctions of law and custom , both positive and negative.
4. Integrative Needs
Our consideration of human needs derived from the conditions
of man’s collective life brings us to a group of needs which are
INTEGRATIVE NEEDS
233
more difficult to define. These needs differ from the others, in
that they are not demonstrably essential to biological survival.
Whether they are so in the last analysis is a problem for the solu-
tion of which no empirical evidence exists. But it is axiomatic
that man requires, not merely to live, but to live well. It is also
empirically demonstrable that all communities provide gratifica-
tions for their members over and above those which are essential
to biological survival and the satisfaction of physiological appetites.
The existence of these gratifications justifies us in postulating
a group of integrative needs. Nowhere are the rules of law and
morals supported by the fear of punishment and the promise of
rewards alone — there is always a set of common moral sentiments
which postulate that certain lines of conduct are worth while,
apart from material rewards or the fear of punishment. Con-
cretely, the moral feelings of society are given linguistic expression
in emotionally significant terms of praise and blame, in proverbs,
maxims, myths and other moral talcs which build up standards
of social conduct in the minds of individuals. The very fact that
these standards are not invariably observed shows their vital
significance throughout the general run of human activities. The
sharing of common tasks, the interdependence of individuals in
systems of co-operation, and particularly the ceremonial and
religious activities whose main function is the collective ex-
pression of optimism, grief, awe and other social sentiments — all
these reinforce the individual’s feeling of dependence upon his
fellows and his respect for the traditional moral codes accepted
by them as binding.
All cultures include a magico-religious system which, in part,
satisfies the need for the expression of collective sentiments , and in part
satisfies the individual’s need for a feeling of confidence , of moral
integrity and of optimism in the face of danger, disaster, bereave-
ment and the frustration of human hopes. We shall see in Chapter
X how primitive religion and magic satisfy these needs as well as
the way in which they subserve other collateral functions by
organizing and stimulating economic activity, by supporting
authority and by reinforcing the rules of custom and law.
Finally, we come to a group of interrelated needs which pro-
duce cultural responses connected with man’s need for recreation
and for esthetic expression . Like all the higher animals, the human
organism, particularly when young, indulges in movements and
sequences of activity which have no direct and immediate aim
THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
234
connected with the satisfaction of any of the biological needs
previously mentioned. These movements provide for an overflow
of surplus nervous energy. The tired organism does not play.
But the movements concerned are not haphazard; they are
demonstrably related to the behaviour patterns necessary to the
survival of the species — for example, the series of predatory,
aggressive and evasive movements in the play of a young puppy
or kitten. Play thus serves the function of preparing the individual
for adult life. In man this process is culturally standardized. Apart
from the unco-ordinated movements and sounds of very young
infants, play activity is usually organized on a collective basis, and,
as we have seen, this plays an important part in the education
of the young.
Akin to play are the activities which are related, albeit in a
subtle and obscure way, to special patterns of sense impressions,
visual, acoustic and kinaesthctic. Drawing, painting, carving,
music, song and the dance are patterns of behaviour which take
on different forms in various cultures. Whether there are any
universally valid aesthetic standards is a philosophic question on
which it would be unwise to be dogmatic. The music or repre-
sentative art of primitive peoples often appears to the alien as
meaningless, garish or insipid, while manifestly giving intense
aesthetic pleasure to individuals reared in the community con-
cerned and trained in its aesthetic standards. This is particularly
true of narrative and dramatic art, which depend upon specific
cultural standards and values. The mythology of the Australian
aborigines is merely a tangled narrative of pointless events unless
we can appreciate the value attached in Australian culture to the
long-past “dream times”, to the geographical environment, to the
natural species which are of vital economic and social significance,
and to specific standards of moral behaviour in relation to age,
kinship obligations and the rules of sexual behaviour. On the
other hand, the tragedy of Othello would appear meaningless to
an unsophisticated Karadjeri native, since obviously the only
rational conduct for the Moor would have been to demand a
present of boomerangs from Gassio as compensation for the
alleged act of adultery. Clearly the art forms of an alien people
can only be appreciated by a full understanding of the complex
of cultural values in which they occur. This seems to point to
the conclusion that aesthetic standards are necessarily relative, but
the whole issue is highly speculative.
INTEGRATIVE NEEDS
235
TABLE OF HUMAN NEEDS AND CULTURAL RESPONSES
NEEDS
Primary Needs:
(a) Food.
(b) Other basic physiological
processes, such as breathing,
rest, excretion.
(c) Defence against, and inflic-
tion of, bodily injury.
(d) Protection against climate.
\e) Sex.
(/) Reproduction.
(g) Health.
2. Derived Needs:
(a) Transmission of culture.
( b ) Communication.
(c) Material satisfactions,
largely conditioned by
manipulative ability.
(d) Organization of collective
activities.
(1 e ) Social control.
3. Integrative Needs:
(a) Confidence and feeling of
collective unity.
(b) Relaxation, play, aesthetic
satisfaction.
EXAMPLES OF CULTURAL RESPONSES
Nutritional system.
Systems of ventilation, sleeping
arrangements, sanitation.
Shields, armour, fortifications,
weapons.
Houses, clothing.
The social expression and control
of sex behaviour.
The family, systems of kinship, and
cultural activities connected
with pregnancy, childbirth and
the care of the young.
Hygiene and the treatment of
sickness, almost exclusively mag-
ico-religious in primitive society.
Education.
Language.
Economic system, including ma-
terial culture.
Leadership, centralized or dif-
fused, in traditionally defined
systems of co-operation.
Sanctions of law and custom.
Magico-religious system.
.Esthetic, recreational and cere-
monial activities.
What is, however, empirically observable about primitive art,
particularly representative art, is its close relationship to practical
and social pursuits, a relationship which is much closer than
among ourselves. It is rare to find objets d'art produced merely for
the purpose of contemplation, as we do when we hang pictures on
the wall or erect statues in public places. Primitive art rather
takes the form of embellishing objects which are actually used in
practical and ritual pursuits, for example, the decoration of a
236 THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
South Sea canoe or the carving on an Australian aborigine’s
shield.
We have shown that the needs of man are integrally related to
certain types of cultural response. The types of relationship
involved are summarized in the table given on p. 235.
In connection with this table, it must be emphasized that the
presentation is necessarily incomplete and that the relationships
indicated are not exclusive. In the next section we shall seek to
clarify the character of these relationships, and to describe the
way in which any given culture is organized for the satisfaction of
human needs.
5. Needs and Institutions
In the foregoing analysis of the basic needs of man and the
types of cultural responses which they produce, the reader may
have noticed the emergence of certain general principles. In the
first place, while we can describe and seek to classify the needs of
man, they are closely related to each other in their satisfaction.
Thus the infant’s need for food, satisfied in the first instance by
suckling, forms a part of its more general need for care and pro-
tection; the individual’s need for sexual satisfaction and the com-
munity’s need for reproduction are closely related, not merely
biologically, but also culturally, since both find satisfaction
through the institution of the family. This leads us to a second
conclusion — that there is no point-to-point relationship between
needs on the one hand and cultural responses on the other. A
single economic system provides for the satisfaction of the needs
for food and for material equipment; a unitary educational
system provides for the training of the young and for the trans-
mission of culture.
The relation of cultural responses to human needs takes on
different forms from one society to another. The political leader
may or may not be identical with the expert in economic affairs;
in some societies both political and supernatural powers are
vested in a “sacred king”, in others the two functions are differ-
entiated. Furthermore, we have not isolated except by implica-
tion any observable cultural phenomena, and the cultural con-
cepts which we have formulated are to a large extent abstractions
not directly applicable to observation in the field. When we live
in a primitive community, we do not observe an economic system
— we see people hunting, working in the fields, preparing and
NEEDS AND INSTITUTIONS 237
eating food, or making and exchanging artefacts. Our concept
of an economic system is an abstraction from numerous temporally
disconnected observations, based upon the postulate that man
must eat and provide himself with various forms of material
equipment. Again, our residence in a primitive community being
usually limited to a year or two, we never observe the 4 ‘educa-
tional system” — we witness but a very brief part of the process of
growth and learning in the case of any one individual. But we do
see from time to time a number of immature individuals at differ-
ent ages being bathed, chided, initiated and generally brought up
in the way they should go, and from these observations we are able
to synthesize an educational system.
We must therefore at this stage attempt to isolate the units of
cultural reality which may be observed in any society as distinct
from the network of relations between needs and cultural re-
sponses which, though common to all cultures, are almost in-
finitely variable in their character from one to another. We must
seek to define what Malinowski calls the concrete isolates of culture.
As a preliminary to this we must ask the question: what are the
facts of anthropological science?
The reader who thinks that the answer to this is obvious will
probably be wrong. The superficial answer would be to mention
such statements as “among the Kariera it is the custom for a man
to marry the daughter of his mother’s brother”, or “Maori feather
boxes are decorated with incised spiral designs”, or “among the
Nyakyusa all trees belong by tradition to the chief”. But these are
not facts in social anthropology any more than the affirmation that
“if you pour hydrochloric acid on marble the mixture will fizz”
is a statement of chemical fact. The latter is merely an isolated
observation which only becomes significant when it is related to
other observations and can be embodied in a chemical formula.
It is thus integrated with a body of theoretical knowledge about
different forms of matter and their chemical relations to each
other.
Precisely the same is true, though it is less obvious, in the case
of anthropological observations. As Malinowski says, “In real
science the fact consists in the relatedness, provided that this is
really determined, universal and scientifically definable ”. 1 Failure
to recognize this has stultified anthropological field-work which
has too often consisted merely of an agglomeration of haphazard
1 Malinowski (io), p. 27.
238 THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
observations, unrelated to each other or to the system of needs
underlying every human culture. “To put it paradoxically, one
could say that ‘facts’ do not exist in sociological any more than in
physical reality; that is, they do not dwell in the spatial and
temporal continuum open to the untutored eye. The principles
of social organization, of legal constitution, of economics and
religion have to be constructed by the observer out of a multitude
of manifestations of varying significance and relevance. It is these
invisible realities, only to be discovered by inductive computa-
tion, by selection and construction, which are scientifically
important in the study of culture.” 1 The facts of anthropological
science, then, consist of cultural relations, that is, the relations
of the elements or “traits” of culture to one another and to human
needs.
The way in which cultural responses are related to human
needs is founded upon two universal characteristics of human
social behaviour: in the first place, human beings satisfy their
needs collectively — they band together in groups and carry out
activities determined by certain explicitly formulated purposes
and traditionally defined rules. At specific places and times, and
employing a standard material equipment, they indulge in
activities which serve a definite function in the satisfaction of
human needs. In the second place, these activities are not
carried out haphazardly — the aggregation of human groups does
not occur ad hoc , nor do their activities arise spontaneously. The
whole process is governed by cultural traditions which create
institutions. These arc the concrete isolates of culture, the basic
units of our subject-matter, which can be listed for any given
culture. An institution may be defined as “a group of people
united in a common task or tasks, bound to a determined portion
of the environment, wielding together some technical apparatus,
and obeying a body of rules”. 2 The conception of institutions as
the concrete isolates of culture is vital to anthropological science,
because no single item of culture, such as an artefact, a religious
belief or a form of ritual, has any anthropological significance
until it is placed within the framework of an institution or of a
series of institutions. Only in this way can we fully understand its
relation to other elements of culture and to the system of human
needs to which culture is a response.
1 Malinowski (5), Vol. I, p. 317.
1 Malinowski, Introduction to Hogbin (2), p. xxxiii.
THE STRUCTURE OF INSTITUTIONS
*39
6. The Structure of Institutions
All human institutions have a certain basic structure, more or
less implied in the definition given above. Thus, every institution
has a charter , a culturally formulated statement of its justification
and social significance. Usually this is referred back into the past —
the charter takes the form of mythological or legendary events by
which the institution was originally set up. Apart from possible
reticence, suspicion or secrecy on the part of the natives, the
charter of an institution can always be elicited by direct question-
ing. Even where the objective of institutional activity is fairly
obvious — as in the case of house-building or the provision of
food — specific phases of it are always justified by relating them to
features of the culture — to the doings of ancestors in ancient
times, to the special powers or privileges of individuals alive today,
or to specific moral values connected with obligations between
kin. This is particularly important in the fields of religion and
magic — thus, in many elaborate ceremonies of the Australian
aborigines, every detail of the ritual is justified by some tale of
mythological ancestors, who laid down once and for all the pattern
of ceremonial which must be followed. Frequently, the charter is
less specific — thus payment of tribute to chiefs may be justified,
not by any legendary events, but by the generally accepted feeling
that chiefs are entitled to certain privileges on the basis of their
birth, their wealth, their administrative and protective functions,
or their magico-religious powers. Whatever its form, the charter
of an institution — the official cultural explanation of its existence
and statement of its aims — must be distinguished from the
motives of the individuals carrying out institutional activity, which
are essentially personal and often egotistical.
Both charter and motives must be studied if an institution is to
be understood, but they must not be confused with each other,
and each must be distinguished from the function of the institution,
a subject to which we shall return later.
The charter of an institution lays down at the same time a body
of rules or norms , officially approved standards of conduct govern-
ing institutional activity. It is important to note that the actual
behaviour of individuals does not always conform to this stand-
ard, but as an ideal it is an ever-present cultural reality.
Another feature of an institution which is embodied in its
charter is the division and alignment of the individuals participat-
THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
240
ing — the personnel of the institution. As we have seen in the pre-
ceding chapters, all cultures possess a social organization or social
structure in which the reciprocal relations, rights and obligations
of individuals and groups to each other are defined by tradition,
for example, the standardized relations between men and women,
between chiefs and commoners, between the old and the young,
or between priests and laymen. The various types of social group-
ings which we have described are, in their dynamic aspects,
standardized ways in which the institutional activities of different
individuals are organized.
All institutional activities involve a material setting — they do
not take place in vacuo , but in a defined place and with the aid of
elements of material culture. The environment is modified in
order to make possible or facilitate the institutional activities
of the culture — huts, meeting-houses or temples are built; tools,
implements and weapons are fashioned of wood, stone or metal;
and even the spiritual values of man find material embodiment,
whether in totemic emblems, in idols or in sacred books such as
the Bible or the Koran. It should be noted that the existence of
the material apparatus or material substratum of an institution itself
exerts a profound influence on the very character of the institu-
tion. We have mentioned (p. 3) how, in prehistoric times, the
invention of new technological processes and techniques made
possible the development of new forms of social grouping and
institutional activity. Again, the institutions connected with
warfare provide a striking example of the way in which the
character of human activities is modified by the material appara-
tus connected with them. The introduction of the stabbing
assegai by Chaka contributed greatly to the expansion of the
Zulu; the introduction of firearms in certain American and
Pacific communities produced drastic, and at times lethal,
effects upon the character of indigenous warfare, sometimes lead-
ing to the extermination of whole communities; and finally, the
development of new and more devastating weapons of war in
recent times has profoundly altered, not only the sociological
character and implications of war, but also the relative power
and status, as well as the policies, of the great nations.
The statement of the charter of an institution gives us some
idea of the activities involved, but not a complete one. In the first
place, the actual behaviour of individuals often falls short of the
ideal embodied in the charter and norms, particularly when these
THE STRUCTURE OF INSTITUTIONS
241
involve irksome restrictions, burdensome obligations, or acts of
self-denial and self-sacrifice. Secondly, the activities involved in
an institution are never fully defined in its charter — there are
usually important collateral or subsidiary activities carried on
apart from the major purpose of the institution as defined in its
charter. Thus, in the case of the Kula, the ceremonial exchange
of valuables is supplemented by a certain amount of trade, carried
out from purely economic motives and clearly distinguished
from the social and ceremonial activities of the Kula proper.
The final task in the analysis of any institution is the state-
ment of its function , that is, its place in the total culture and the
part which it plays in the satisfaction of human needs. This again
is something much more profound than the statement provided
in the charter. No native can give a full and accurate account of
the functions of an institution as can the sociologist. This is
particularly true of magico-religious institutions. Consider, for
example, the magical ceremonies connected with agriculture.
The explicit purpose of these as embodied in their charter is to
promote the growth of crops, to provide rain, to guard against the
menace of hurricanes, pests, blights and so on. Our knowledge of
natural and biological science tells us that they are ineffective
for this purpose. But they nevertheless serve a function in em-
phasizing the importance of vital food-getting activities, in mobil-
izing collective economic activity, and in promoting collective
optimism and confidence. An appreciation of the role of any
given institution in satisfying human needs — its function —
involves a study of all its aspects — economic, legal, educational,
magico-religious and so on. But the study of an institution should
include also its negative aspects — the way in which it frustrates or
limits, as well as facilitates, the satisfaction of human needs.
Thus, in the case of magico-religious institutions, we should have
to note the way in which they impose irksome restrictions on
human activity as well as the question how far they inhibit the
active search for scientific or practically useful techniques for the
solution of human problems (Chapter X, Section 10).
7. The Analysis of an Institution
We might illustrate the structural character of an institution
by reference to one of the institutions of our own society, a Local
Authority in Britain, such as a County or Town Council. Because
ours is a literate society with elaborate political institutions,
THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
242
we should find the charter of the institution embodied in various
Acts of Parliament. These have progressively defined and re-
defined the powers and responsibilities of local authorities.
We should find that the rules embodied in the charter are
prescriptive, proscriptive and permissive. For example, the
Council must provide education, fire services and police; it
must not run public utilities such as transport, gas and electricity
services at a loss — these services must be self-supporting; finally,
the Council at its discretion may or may not organize a municipal
orchestra, theatre or golf-course. In addition to legal enactments,
we should also be able to observe a number of generally accepted
rules governing the institution, some of them uncodified — rules
governing the conduct of elections, procedure at Council meetings
and the ceremonial of civic functions.
We should have to distinguish the social purpose embodied in
the charter — in general terms, the provision of good local govern-
ment — from the motives of the individuals involved. We should
find, for example, that while some councillors are actuated
primarily by a sense of public duty, others seek merely personal
notoriety or even economic advantage. The motives of municipal
civil servants, employees of the local authorities and of ratepayers
(that is, of the personnel involved in the institution) would likewise
be found to be coloured by personal interests — social, economic
and political. We should have to study the legal and social rela-
tions of these groups to one another and to outside groups, for
example, Church and Parliament.
Our examination of the charter reveals to us the outline of the
norms governing the institution. But even among those citizens
who are not familiar with the details of the charter we would find
expressed, more or less clearly, certain standards of civic re-
sponsibility felt as binding upon the individuals involved, stand-
ards reflected in the statement so often made about any public
inconvenience or nuisance that “the Council ought to do some-
thing about it”.
We should also have to examine the material apparatus connected
with the institution — school s and other public buildings, equip-
ment connected with the provision of gas, electricity, public
transport, protection against fire and so on. In our civilization
this would be a highly technical problem, but we should have to
emphasize firstly the relevance of the efficiency of the material
apparatus to effective local government, and secondly, the way
THE ANALYSIS OF AN INSTITUTION 243
in which the existence of this apparatus partially determines the
structure of an institution itself. Thus, the expansion in the func-
tions of local authorities during the last hundred years has been
largely due to the new and more complex technical equipment
which they have to handle.
In describing the activities connected with the institution —
elections, Council meetings, and the day-to-day procedure of
public administration — we should have to remind ourselves of the
distinction between charter and motives. Owing to human
shortcomings, intellectual and emotional, we should find that
what is actually done never conforms with the ideal standard
implicit in the charter.
Finally, we should have to draw together the threads of our
discussion by describing the function of the institution, that is, its
relation to the satisfaction of the human needs of the community
as a whole or of special sections of it. We should find that the
Council provides partially for nutritional requirements, for
example, by the provision of meals in schools, civic restaurants
and food for the inmates of public institutions; in time of war its
Civil Defence organization provides protection against injury;
various public institutions provide shelter for the homeless; the
Council performs important functions in relation to the needs for
sex and reproduction in the registration of births and marriages,
in the provision of maternity services, and in the regulation of
sexual behaviour by various edicts imposing standards of decency
in public places; the care and education of the young are provided
for by infant welfare services, schools and colleges ; a large range
of material satisfactions provides for the comfort, health and recrea-
tion of the community; the local authority also has certain well-
defined legal powers which control the activities of individuals
in a socially approved way; and although the Council does not
possess any specifically religious functions, its activities are
related to the generally accepted religious code, for example,
in the restriction of public recreation and entertainment on
Sundays.
Finally, we should have to consider the activities of the local
authority in relation to the geographical environment, including
the demography and ecology of the community, and to the life-
cycle of the various individuals composing it. We should thus
discern how political attitudes are built up in the growing
individual, how these affect the structure of governmental institu-
244 THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
tions, and how various motives determine the interaction of
individuals, for example at elections.
From the above type of analysis we see that while a local
authority is primarily a political and legal institution, it never-
theless serves very much wider functions in the satisfaction of
human needs, and only by a description of all of its functions can
its cultural significance be understood.
Before returning to the primitive field, we may clarify some of
the concepts which we have employed, namely — traits or ele-
ments of culture, anthropological facts and institutions. A lamp-
post in a city street is an element of culture. One can take a tape-
measure and define exactly its shape and dimensions, one can
describe the metallurgical and other technical processes by which
it is made and erected . 1 But the lamp-post is not an anthropo-
logical fact — it is merely a mass of metal. Only when we say that
it forms part of the lighting system of a town or city, and that this
is the responsibility of the local authority (which implies the type
of institutional analysis given above), have we defined an anthro-
pological fact by placing the material object within the frame-
work of an institution. By recording a number of such facts we
discern the total cultural function of the institution along the
lines described in this section.
8. Cultural Efflorescence and Degeneration
The question is often asked why, since all human cultures are
founded upon a set of universal human needs, they should vary
from each other. In certain instances differences in geographical
environment provide a partial explanation, for example, if we
compare the culture of the Eskimo with that of the Australian
aborigines. But in many cases geographical environment seems
to have little if anything to do with cultural variation. We find
patrilineal and matrilineal peoples, segmented and stratified
societies, totemic and non-totemic peoples living side by side in
substantially similar geographical environments. Much less does
geographical environment explain certain exceptional, striking
and complex developments in particular cultures — for example,
the development of matriliny and political organization among
the Iroquois, the dramatic institution of the potlatch, or the
ramifications of kinship organization in Australia. We can de-
1 In most works on primitive technology, this is where the description ends, that is,
before any anthropological statements have been made about the artefact concerned.
CULTURAL EFFLORESCENCE AND DEGENERATION 245
monstrate that these are related to certain integrative needs in
the societies concerned, but we cannot say why these needs have
led to the particular cultural responses which we observe.
To the theory of needs, then, we must add two ancillary hypo-
theses. The first of these is cultural efflorescence . 1 This is merely
a hypothesis because, owing to the paucity of reliable historical
data in primitive societies, we cannot describe the process itself 2
but only its end-products. We can discern in general terms the
processes of change which have operated in primitive society —
the influence of outstanding individuals, migrations, diffusion,
and a process analogous to “drift” in language . 3 All of these may
contribute to cultural efflorescence, but only under exceptional
circumstances can we describe how they have actually operated
in any given primitive culture. We therefore affirm that such
striking and exceptional developments as those mentioned above
have been due to a process of cultural efflorescence, although we
are unable to describe this process in detail.
Perhaps we might gain some light on the fundamental charac-
teristics of the process from comparative psychology and even from
our everyday experience. An ape in a zoo tends to follow certain
rhythmical and recurrent sequences of bodily behaviour, and we
can discern an analogous process in the repetitive verbal and
motor habits of young children. Perhaps a closer analogy with
the cultural phenomena we are considering, though by no means
a perfect one, is to be found in compulsion neuroses. Here we
observe repetitions of certain behaviour patterns, which at first
seem quite unrelated to any emotional drive of the individual.
1 This concept was first introduced into theoretical anthropology by Firth (8,
p. 598) under the name of institutional efflorescence. The term “cultural” is preferred
here in order to emphasize that the process of efflorescence, although always mani-
fested in institutions, may apply to aspects of culture or to patterns of behaviour which
pervade many institutions. For example, where practices of sorcery are highly de-
veloped, they tend to effloresce in all the institutions of the culture concerned.
* Perhaps this is because no one has attempted to review bodies of ethnographic
data in the light of the theory of needs and the hypothesis of cultural efflorescence.
Furthermore, the field of culture contact seems to be one in which the process can
actually be observed, for example, in the case of the similar types of “adjustment
cults” (Firth, 14, p. 16) which have arisen in parts of the world as remote from each
other as South-east Africa, Fiji and New Guinea.
8 For example, in the case of Indo-European languages, Grimm’s law demon-
strated such correspondences as Greek “th”, German “t” and English “d” in thugater ,
tochter and daughter. Here the process is known to have been due to historical connec-
tion, because of the common origin of the three languages. In regard to primitive
culture, as distinct from language, it is only occasionally or in limited fields that such
common origins can be demonstrated. But the operation of the process can probably
be assumed — for example, in Australian kinship the drift seems to be from simple to
complex types of organization, stimulated by diffusion.
246 THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
Only when psychological analysis has traced them back to the
initial situation in which they arose can their full significance be
understood. In all these cases we observe that habits which are
not demonstrably or obviously related to any fundamental need
of the organism seem to acquire a momentum and even a com-
pulsive power of their own, and we may perhaps assume a similar
basic process in the cultural behaviour of human groups, though
here the problem is enormously complicated by the cultural
environment by which the organism is conditioned and the
consequent interaction of the behaviour patterns of different
individuals . 1
To the hypothesis of cultural efflorescence we should add the
complementary one of cultural degeneration, a concept which
has frequently been employed in anthropology. Unfortunately,
most studies of degeneration have concentrated on the generally
futile task of trying to discern how it has actually operated in
particular cases, rather than upon an analysis of the general
biological, psychological and sociological processes involved.
These are the same kind as those already mentioned. Just as the
influence of exceptional individuals, migration, diffusion and
drift can lead to the burgeoning of certain cultural features, so
they can produce attenuation and even extinction of others.
The theory of needs, supplemented by the hypotheses of cul-
tural efflorescence and degeneration, enables us to understand,
albeit in very general terms, why certain cultures have developed
exceptional features. But it is important to remember that they
are exceptional and should never form the basis of a general
theory of human culture. Trite as this statement seems, it is im-
portant because it is often overlooked in criticisms, explicit or
implied, of the functional interpretation. Thus, writers of the Gon-
figurationist school have seized upon cultures in which one form
or other of cultural efflorescence is very marked, have exaggerated
certain features and reached the conclusion embodied in Dr.
Ruth Benedict’s dictum: “No common measure of cultural
phenomena can be found.” Again, the general theory of function-
alism has been challenged by the production of atypical customs
and institutions which appear inconsistent with it. But it is im-
portant to remember that the vast majority of primitive peoples
1 The interaction of the individual human organism and the cultural environment
in childhood and adult life will be discussed in Volume II in relation to the concept
of “basic personality”.
CULTURAL EFFLORESCENCE AND DEGENERATION 247
are polygynous, while polyandry is extremely rare; that the
relatively unstable family organization of the Nuer is by no means
typical of primitive society; that almost all stratified societies
practise endogamy or similar marriage rules which prescribe
marriages between members of the ruling classes, although the
Natchez and one or two West African peoples for some reason or
other have a system of exogamy connected with their class struc-
ture; and that in the vast majority of societies men are men and
not the effeminate creatures described (or perhaps caricatured)
among the Tchambuli. To deny the general theory of functional-
ism by citing abnormal and atypical cultural features is analogous
to saying that because polydactyly and syndactyly 1 exist, it is
incorrect to say that human beings have five digits on each hand.
Some psychologists have attempted to short-circuit the con-
troversy about instinct by employing the term “prepotent reflex”.
The value of this concept for systematic psychology does not con-
cern us here, but we badly need a somewhat similar concept in
our comparative studies of primitive cultures. In these we should
emphasize the existence of prepotent cultural responses to the basic
and universal human needs — primary, derived and integrative —
in contradistinction to exceptional cultural end-products of the
processes of cultural efflorescence and degeneration.
g. The Universal Aspects of Human Culture
It will be apparent that any given institution may be con-
sidered from many aspects. It will be useful at this point to list
the aspects of culture, all of which will be found in its most im-
portant institutions, though some of them may be absent from
those which are less significant and more highly specialized.
The universal aspects of culture may be subdivided into
special aspects and general aspects, according to how far they
correspond with specific types of human activity and how far they
are more general and pervade every field of human life. We have
considered most of the aspects of culture as responses to human
needs. We must further emphasize the fact that all human activity
takes place within a specific geographical environment, which is
always significant, and may be of vital importance in determining
the character of cultural institutions, particularly those connected
with demography and ecology, the way in which a human group
1 These are abnormal anatomical conditions in which the individual is bom with
more or less than the normal number of digits.
s . a . 1 — 1 8
248 THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
is distributed over its territory and exploits its natural resources.
We must also refer to the last of the general aspects of culture,
namely, the life-cycle of the individual. Culture may be viewed
psychologically as well as sociologically, and it is important to
know, not only the pattern of cultural relationships existing at any
one time, but also how this pattern affects, and is affected by, the
individual, not only during the early period of his education, but
also throughout his life from birth to death. The universal aspects
of culture are listed in the following table:
THE UNIVERSAL ASPECTS OF HUMAN CULTURE
Special Aspects
1. Economic.
2. Political.
3 - Legal.
4. Educational:
i. Knowledge and technique.
ii. Sentiments and morals.
5. Magico-religious.
6. Art, recreation and
ceremonial.
General Aspects
1. Geographical environment,
demography, human ecology.
2. Material substratum.
3. Knowledge and belief.
4. Normative system.
5. Language.
6. Social organization.
7. Life-cycle of the individual.
In connection with this tabic, it must be emphasized that the
distinction between special and general aspects is a relative one,
and that the categories are not mutually exclusive. On the con-
trary, they overlap, and the phenomena belonging to them inter-
lock in a complex manner. The list is essentially a mnemonic
device designed to ensure that in considering any culture or
institution, the student shall consider it in all its aspects, neglect-
ing nothing which may be relevant to an understanding of the
significance of an institution or of a culture considered as a whole.
Failure to do this has in the past very often had an adverse effect
on anthropological field-work, and has led to theoretical specula-
tions which are futile because they fail to take into account the
multiple aspects of human cultural activity.
The systematic study of any given institution in relation to
human needs on the one hand and to the universal aspects of
culture on the other leads us to an understanding of its structural
characteristics, as listed in Section 6, and of the relation of these
to the culture as a whole. Thus, when we consider the aspect of
social organization, we define, not only the personnel of the
institution, but also their relation to other institutional activities
of the people; the social norms governing the institution are seen
to be part of a very much wider normative system, and so on.
UNIVERSAL ASPECTS OF HUMAN CULTURE
249
It may therefore be asked why we require two lists of pheno-
mena to be considered — namely, the structural characteristics of
institutions and the universal aspects of human culture. The
answer is that, whereas the former applies to all institutions, the
latter does not always do so; some aspects may be absent from
certain institutions, though they must all be considered in any
institutional analysis lest any important aspect should be for-
gotten. Moreover, the relation between the two lists varies from
one institution to another — thus, the charter may be primarily
related to the political system (as in a modern parliament) or
may belong rather to the magi co-religious aspect of culture, as
in the case of a religious cult. The two lists are merely different
ways of considering the same phenomenon — an institution —
either in terms of its basic structure or in terms of its relation to
the wider cultural framew ork of which it forms a part.
/o. A Recreational Institution
It must be emphasized that the above type of analysis is not
reproduced in the ordinary ethnographic account of an institu-
tion. This usually takes a more simple and narrative form. But
if it is an adequate description, it will be possible to rearrange
the material in a systematic form designed to show the basic
structure of the institution and its relation to culture as a whole.
To illustrate this, let us consider an abridged account of a re-
creational institution found in a primitive community — namely,
a dart match in Tikopia.
The game of darts as played in Tikopia is a good example of an
institution directed towards public recreation. The game con-
sists of competitive throwing of the Tika or dart. This is really
more like a small javelin. It consists of a reed shaft about four
feet long, with a hardwood head at one end. Because of its lack of
balance, the dart being exceptionally heavy at the front end, it is
impossible to throw the Tika in the ordinary way. It is held at the
back end, with the first finger placed against the butt. As there is
considerable pressure on the finger at the moment of throwing,
a protective ring of coco-nut fibre is placed between the finger
and the butt.
Dart throwing is carried out on a pitch about 130 yards long,
called the Marae Tika . The game is played between two teams of
from twelve to twenty men — women attend the games, but do not
play. Each team is captained by an expert, who is called “chief
250 THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
of the dart group”. This man is always an excellent player, and is
chosen by the chiefs and men of authority. His main function is
to decide the order of throwing, so that his side has the best chance
of scoring.
The teams are called “the bachelors” and “the married men”.
These terms are purely figurative — men play in the two teams
irrespective of their marital state. In actual fact, the two teams
are based upon the organization of the islanders into four clans.
In general, the bachelors are drawn from Tafua clan. The
married men come primarily from Kafika, but also from Fan-
garere and Taumako. The organization of the teams reflects the
traditional opposition between the two Tikopia districts of Faea
and Ravenga, and men from these districts sometimes belong to
the team which is not associated with their own clan.
Because it can draw upon three clans, the team of married men
seems to have the advantage so far as getting good players is
concerned. But on the whole, the teams seem to be fairly well
matched.
The scoring of the game is complicated. The general principle
is that the longest throw wins, but if the other side can throw a
dart so that its head comes level with any part of the leading dart,
it is said to “eat” the first dart, the score of which is thus wiped
out. A leading dart scores one, and each dart of the same side
lying behind it also scores one, provided that it has not been
“eaten” by the opponents. The rule is thus that only a dart un-
beaten by the opposition counts. The procedure is that one side
“goes in” and continues to score until its score is wiped out by the
other side, which then goes in and continues to score until in its
turn it is beaten. The method of scoring is slightly varied if one
side succeeds in scoring ten without a check. After such a win,
the winners go off to their orchards and gather coco-nuts, which
they present to the losers. This principle of “winner pays” de-
pends upon the feeling of shame which the losers feel after such a
defeat. Their self-respect is restored by the gift — a typical Tikopia
way of dealing with such situations.
The game of course has its own jargon — terms of praise and
blame, terms for experts and terms for different kinds of throw.
A game of darts is an important episode in Tikopia life. The
people, brightly decorated, assemble, and the match is a subject
of gossip throughout the island for some time before and after it
takes place. But the game has a more serious aspect. It is known
A RECREATIONAL INSTITUTION 251
as the “sport of the gods”. There are special ceremonial matches
from time to time. The gods are believed to be in attendance at
such matches, and it is believed that the playing of the game
promotes the growth of crops. At ceremonial matches, the chiefs
of the island compete with one another through their young rela-
tives — the chiefs themselves do not play.
An elaborate procedure is carried out before and during such
matches. The ground is cleared and the pitch carefully smoothed
over. The gods are invoked for success by the elders. On these
occasions, special sacred darts, the property of the chiefs, are used.
These darts have special individual names, and the night before
the match their heads are smeared with coco-nut oil. During the
night the darts are placed leaning against the wall, and if in the
morning it is found that they have fallen down, the owners are
pleased, for it is a sign that the gods have been playing with the
darts during the night, and will be interested in the outcome of
the match. In the morning the right arms of the players are
smeared with coco-nut oil, and the elders again invoke the gods.
This is a translation of one of their prayers :
“There! Turn to your foremost dart
To a win for you to he gained this morning .
Make it slide on your back for a win for you”
There are two interesting points about this prayer. In the first
place, it reflects the Polynesian belief that gods may be incarnate
in birds and other creatures. The god to whom this prayer is
addressed is incarnate in the lizard. The prayer envisages the
lizard-god running along the pitch, carrying the dart on its back.
Secondly, the phrasing of the prayer is of interest. The god is
tactfully invoked to secure a win for himself. The interest of the
human group is not mentioned.
After these prayers and ritual, the game is ceremonially opened
by the pouring of a libation of kava. During the game the old
chiefs sit with bowed heads murmuring invocations as the
younger men throw the darts. If a chief is losing, he rebukes the
gods, as in the following text :
“Look here! Your kava which is made here
Why not turn to it!
You dorCt look at the kava .
But there you are facing the woods”
252 THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
This text reproves the god for not paying sufficient attention
to the game, and invites him to show his appreciation of the kava
libation which he has received. In addition to praying for success,
the chiefs also seek to divert the darts of their opponents so that
they fall harmlessly in the bush at the side of the pitch:
“Be glanced aside by you, Te Amafakaro!
Block it for a win for yourself ”
Again notice how the personal interest of the chief himself is
tactfully omitted from the prayer.
The game is governed by many usages and rules of good
manners. For example, a player must not show any satisfaction
after an exceptionally successful throw. He must remain im-
passive, except when he is playing with a new dart. In this case,
he may celebrate its success by crying out “iefu 55 — roughly
equivalent to our “hurrah”. On the other hand, the spectators
may cheer, particularly if a long throw carries the dart beyond
the end of the pitch.
There are legends of great players. These are often fantastic,
as in the story of the man who, by tapping the ground with his
finger, could direct the course of his dart in flight by a sort of
remote control. The sacred darts mentioned above arc used very
sparingly, as it is believed that if they are thrown too often they
will make the shoulders of the players ache.
If a man achieves an exceptional score, he presents food to the
other men of his team. In the case of an exceptionally good
player, this duty may be onerous. In fact, there is a record of one
man whose play was so good that he was forced to economize by
deliberately throwing short.
The importance and significance of the game are reflected in
the dance songs which are composed about it. The dance song is
a regular Tikopia way of expressing sentiment. Here is the song
of a man who is not doing well, and is apprehensive of the criti-
cism of the spectators :
“My dart has sped down from the throwing sands ,
It has been caught up by the experts ,
I shall be sorry and not shout .
“ Throbbing , throbbing is the heart .
Eyes of the land
Are all assembled at the pitch”
A RECREATIONAL INSTITUTION 253
On the other hand, here is the song of a successful player:
“My dart is superior .
It comes down , strikes the ground with its wooden heady
Then it is lost to the eye {in its swift flight )
in the middle of the pitch”
It will be seen that the dart match, although only a game, is a
significant element in Tikopia life. It is related to the needs of the
people, particularly the need for social integration on occasions
of community activity. It also provides recreation, relaxation,
interest and an occasion for display and competition. It will be
obvious that the Tikopia feel strongly about the game, and that
the players are elated by success and cast down by defeat, which
is a reflection, not only on the players, but also upon the chiefs
and gods whom they represent.
Furthermore, the game is related to every other aspect of
Tikopia culture. There are economic obligations concerned with
the gifts to the defeated side and those given by a successful player
to his own team. The political structure of the island is reflected
in the direction of the game by the chiefs and elders and their
selection of the captains of the teams. Because no very profound
passions are concerned in the game, the legal aspect is less im-
portant; but it should be noted that incompetence is condemned,
and that the rules of etiquette connected with the game are en-
forced by the chiefs. Thus, on one occasion, a player who appeared
ostentatiously decorated was publicly rebuked by the chief, and
as a result ceased to attend the matches. The educational aspect is
to be found in the fact that children play and practise the game
and are allowed to attend the important matches between adult
teams. The magico-religious element in the game is most striking
in the prayers and ritual connected with it and the belief that the
playing of the game promotes the growth of crops. The game, too,
has an artistic interest reflected in the decorations of the spectators,
the careful smoothing over of the pitch before the game, and the
workmanship of the tika. The geography and demography of the
island, with its traditional opposition between the districts of
Faea and Ravenga, is reflected in the organization of the teams.
The material substratum is of course the tika itself and the throwing
ring. Many elements of knowledge and belief enter into the dart
match — the fine points of the game, the technique of throwing,
THE PRINCIPLES OF CULTURAL ANALYSIS
254
and the beliefs connected with the participation of the gods. The
rules of the game and regulations of good manners and ceremonial
form part of the normative system of Tikopia culture, and are typical
of the importance which Polynesian peoples attach to such matters.
The language of the game includes a special jargon, terms of
praise and blame, and names given to the sacred tika of chiefs.
The grouping of people according to their functions in the game
reflects the social organization , including kinship structure, local
affiliation, and the social position of chiefs and elders. During the
life-cycle of the individual , the part played varies : the children watch,
the young men compete, and the older people encourage their
side by cheering and by the invocation of the gods.
The reality of the game of darts in Tikopia is thus to be found
in its relations to the culture as a whole, to the needs of the
individuals composing it, and to its special and general aspects.
We have chosen the Tikopia dart match as an example of a
primitive institution, because the description of it is comprehen-
sive and at the same time capable of condensation. The full
description of a primitive institution usually occupies many
pages, sometimes a complete volume. The student is advised to
apply the above criteria of analysis to institutional descriptions
which he may encounter in further reading, since it will not only
help in gaining a systematic understanding of the institution con-
cerned, but will often reveal gaps in what appears to be a compre-
hensive description, particularly in the older field records.
The method of institutional analysis described in this chapter is
not the only technique employed in social anthropology. Because
of the characteristics of human culture which we have described,
it is possible to study culture also from the point of view of one or
more of the human needs which form its dynamic basis, or in
terms of one or more of the universal aspects of culture. Such
studies cut across the institutional type of analysis, since they
involve a description of the satisfaction of needs through several
institutions, or of more than one institution considered from a
specific aspect. In the next chapter we shall exemplify these other
two types of approach to cultural phenomena in relation to the
satisfaction of the need for food and the economic aspect of human
culture. But whatever type of analysis we adopt, wc must never
lose sight of the basic principles outlined in this chapter, namely,
the dynamic basis of culture in human needs, the organization
of human activities in the form of institutions, the universal
A RECREATIONAL INSTITUTION
255
aspects of human culture, and the interrelationships between
needs, institutions and aspects. These interrelationships constitute
the reality of culture scientifically understood, as distinct from a
mere catalogue of beliefs, customs, artefacts and other items of
ethnographic gossip.
ii. Bibliographical Commentary
With regard to the relevance of the data of physical anthropo-
logy to the study of culture, cursorily treated in Section 1, refer-
ence should be made to Elliot Smith ( 1 ), though it must be stressed
that Elliot Smith’s subsequent theory of the derivation of all
culture from Egypt is not accepted by the majority of modern
anthropologists. For valuable discussions of the differences
between man and the anthropoid apes and of the general lines of
human evolution, see Stibbe (1) and Howells (1).
Malinowski’s functional theory of culture, upon which the
present chapter is founded, is stated in Malinowski (8 and 9) and
most recently and comprehensively in Malinowski (10). This
theory has been criticized by several writers, and the reader who
is interested in theoretical issues may follow up the two more im-
portant lines of criticism which have appeared in recent anthro-
pological literature. The first of these comes from the historical
schools, and is exemplified by Lowie (2), Lesser (1) and Adam
(1). A view in opposition to those of the writers mentioned is
stated with reference to a specific ethnographic province in
Piddington (5).
The other main line of criticism comes from what has been
termed the “structural” school, the basic principles of which are
stated in the writings of Radcliffe-Brown (especially 5 and 6).
See also Gluckman (2).
The Tikopia dart match, briefly reviewed in Section 10, is
more fully described in Firth (6).
CHAPTER Vn
FOOD AND WEALTH
/. Nutrition and Culture
Of the fundamental needs which constitute the dynamic basis
of human culture, the need for food may well be regarded as the
most vital. In the current psychology of motivation, under the
stimulus of the Freudian school, much attention has been paid
to sex, and the repression of sex, as a determinant of human
behaviour, and even of cultural institutions. It must be remem-
bered that the Freudians use the term “sex” in a sense different
from that of ordinary usage, and that the initial quasi-sexual
experience (suckling) to which they attach so much importance
is also an alimentary one. From it, in the life-history of the
individual, become differentiated the more specifically “sexual”
impulses on the one hand, and the urge of hunger on the other.
There are certain striking contrasts between the need for sex
and the need for food. Firstly, an individual can live a lifetime
without sex, but denial of food means certain death. Secondly,
while an undernourished individual may suffer in health and
efficiency, malnutrition produces neither the neuroses and mal-
adjustments nor the cultural sublimations associated with sex
repression. The explanation of this is probably to be found in the
fact that while sex is a potentially disruptive force , 1 the need for
food encourages, in fact necessitates, human co-operation . 2
Consequently, the human desire for food is not culturally dis-
avowed as the sexual impulse tends to be, in our own society at
least. The desire for food may be suppressed, but it is never re-
pressed. People may be forced to go without food, for example,
in a famine or religious fast, but they are not ashamed to admit
that they are hungry. Such an attitude would, in fact, be absurd
in such circumstances. In the former case, the community would
1 C f. what has been said concerning the prohibition of incest.
2 There are certain exceptions to this statement — thus, the sexual relations between
husband and wife arc an integrating factor in family life, while competition over food
may at times have disruptive effects in a community. But in general the contrast
between the two impulses holds good.
{256
NUTRITION AND CULTURE 257
take no steps to increase the food supply and so would starve to
death; in the latter, the religious object of fasting would be
defeated if it were believed that no self-denial was involved.
These facts have led to a neglect of the importance of hunger
as a human drive. As Dewey says: “If a society existed in which
the existence of impulse towards food were socially disavowed
until it was compelled to live an illicit, covert life, alienists would
have plenty of cases of mental and moral disturbance to relate
in connection with hunger.” 1
Another reason for the failure to appreciate the importance of
hunger is that in our own society (at least for those who contribute
to its thought and literature) food is rarely a problem. In the case
of the impulses connected with sex, psychological maladjustments
arising from their frustration are common to all classes of the
community, while it has been held that much creative art arises
from sex repression or suppression. Certainly the theme of much
drama and literature is sexual maladjustment of one kind or
another. This has no correlate in the case of hunger. Conse-
quently, food is not surrounded by a complex set of values —
sociological, ethical, aesthetic and religious — comparable with
that associated, directly or indirectly, with sex. To a community
living well above a subsistence level, or at least to its more
fortunate members, a regular supply of food is taken for granted. 2
In this regard our own civilization differs in a marked way from
most primitive societies, in which hunger frequently occurs and
famine is a constant possibility. The emotional reponse to this is well
expressed in the description of times of scarcity among the Eskimo
(p. 45) and in the following extract from the Trobriand account
of a famine which occurred about the end of the last century:
“Molubabeba in his childhood witnessed a famine. At that
time the people first became ill with a skin disease. Some people
died in the bush; some in the swamps; some in the rayboag
(coastal ridge); some round the water-holes. They went to the
1 Dewey, J., Human Nature and Conduct , p. 165.
2 “We do not write poems, novels or plays about a poached egg. This is an interest-
ing fact, because Arctic explorers have been known to dream of poached eggs. It seems
that the class of people who write novels are more successful in budgeting their food
than their erotic requirements, and that their books sell because the social regulation
of the latter leaves a number of other people in the same predicament. If our social
arrangements were better adapted to ensure happy sexual union, and if the sciences
of human biology and psychology were sufficiently advanced to tell us how to make
marriage a success or how to choose a satisfactory partner, the theme of Othello
would give us no more excitement than a lament on an overdone poached egg”
(Hogben, Dangerous Thoughts , pp. 215-16).
FOOD AND WEALTH
258
water-holes so as to moisten their hands, their feet, and then they
died. All this was because of hunger. There was no food to be
eaten.” 1
Even where the natural environment provides a fairly regular
and adequate diet, the getting of food absorbs by far the greatest
amount of the economic effort of the community. Its importance
is reflected in the attention paid to food-getting activities and in
numerous beliefs and practices connected with food. These are
apparent in every phase of native life, particularly in a number of
ceremonial usages. One of the most striking examples is the ritual
of the sacred dairies among the Todas. There are many other less
spectacular, though no less significant, illustrations of the im-
portance attached to food. Success in the food quest is highly
honoured, for example, in the respect paid to skilled hunters,
gardeners and fishermen.
Probably the most significant usages in which the importance
of food is emphasized are the magico-religious practices connected
with food production. In contradistinction to that of animals,
man’s interest in food does not cease with the satisfaction of
immediate hunger. He can, in fact must, plan for the future to
some extent. And in doing this he can envisage failure or an in-
adequate return for his efforts. He gains a feeling of security, and
to some extent avoids anxiety, by carrying out magico-religious
rites to guard against failure, and these also emphasize the social
importance of his food supply.
Among the magico-religious beliefs and practices connected
with food are those of a negative character, commonly called food
taboos. Of these the commonest are those usually (though not
always) connected with totemism. Numerous other food taboos
are observed by special individuals or classes of individuals, or at
times of social crisis, the latter term having a very wide inter-
pretation. Food taboos of this kind must be considered in relation
to taboos on activities other than eating, which will be discussed
later. In different communities, food taboos are found in connec-
tion with pregnancy, birth, childhood, adolescence, initiation,
courtship and marriage, sickness, death and mourning; social
undertakings, particularly those of a hazardous kind, such as
hunting, deep-sea fishing and war; and the performance of
magic or religious ritual. Taboos often restrict the consumption
of certain foods to chiefs, priests and other men of rank,
1 Malinowski (5), Vol. I, p. 163.
NUTRITION AND CULTURE 259
But food taboos are merely a part of the nutritional aspect
of chieftainship in politically organized societies. Tribute is
normally paid to the chief in the form of food. But as the chief
obviously cannot consume all the food which he receives in this
way, he redistributes it to the community either as largesse given
at feasts, as payment for wives, or in other ways. This in turn in-
creases his prestige. Generosity, in socially stratified societies, is
often the high road to high rank.
In communities possessing legal institutions, deprivation of
food is often a form of punishment; for example, a fine may be
collected by a chief, or restitution for a wrong made, in the form
of food. An extreme example is the Samoan punishment 0 le
sala , in which live-stock, plantations and other property of an
offender were completely destroyed by order of the village
council.
One of the most important aspects of the cultural significance
of food is to be found in the part which it plays in the life-cycle
of the individual. Starting with suckling (normally carried out
for much longer than among ourselves), the individual’s social
relations are largely concerned with food, first in the family circle
and later in the wider community. The child learns the rules of
ethics and good manners connected with the consumption of
food, and the current food taboos of the people. At first entirely
dependent upon kinsfolk for food, the child later learns the
obligations which it owes to others, and the whole set of cultural
values centring round food. This process, as it occurs among
certain southern Bantu tribes, has been described by Dr. Audrey
Richards, and the following is an abridged version of her analysis.
2. The Genetic Study of Nutrition among the South-eastern Bantu
Infancy . — The most striking feature of nutritional life in infancy
among Bantu peoples, as in the majority of primitive communi-
ties, is the extremely long period of suckling, which is continued
until the second or third year of the infant’s life. The mother
usually delays weaning until she is aware that she has conceived
again. Sexual intercourse between husband and wife is taboo for
the first two years after the birth of a child, so that the period of
lactation is necessarily a long one.
In other respects, too, the life of Bantu infants differs from our
own. Among ourselves a fixed routine of sleep, waking and
periodic meals is imposed upon the infant, and the baby is
26 o
FOOD AND WEALTH
accustomed to having its meals preceded by a regular sequence
of events — lifting from the cot, changes of lighting, preparation of
the bath and so on. It has been noted that among infants in our
own society the presentation of one of these stimuli will quieten a
child’s cry of hunger. It will be seen that the mother’s presence
is but one element in a complex situation, from which it may
perhaps be inferred that the emotional fixation upon her is less
than in the case of the Bantu infant, for whom no training of
habits in regard to feeding is organized. The mother will give the
child the breast at any time; furthermore, the child is much more
closely associated physically, both in sleeping and waking, with
the mother's body; for example, it may be strapped to her back
when she goes to work, and continue to doze in its sling of goat or
antelope skin while she tills the field. One writer has suggested
that the Bantu child is more like a marsupial cub than “the baby
in our own civilization lying separated from its mother in a cot
or perambulator”. The Bantu mother thus becomes the centre of
all the emotions associated with the gratification of the child’s
appetite — other stimuli are of little importance to it.
As the child learns to crawl and walk, it widens its environment
and finds other sources of pleasures and excitement, but the
original physiological relationships produced by suckling remain
undisturbed, as does the close bodily association.
The biological basis of infant nutrition is expressed in several
features of Bantu culture — in family usages and in magico-
religious beliefs. In daily life the segregation of women and
children is fairly complete, especially in polygamous households,
where each wife has her separate hut. The husband rarely eats
with his wife and children, taking his food either at the men’s
place in the centre of the kraal, or in a separate division of the
hut. In daily life, too, the mother and her small child spend their
day in the fields, while the father remains in the kraal or tends the
cattle. At this stage the father pays little attention to his children
— a marked contrast with certain Oceanic societies. This may be
connected with the conception of ritual danger associated with
birth, lactation and infancy. The father may not touch his child
until a ceremony has been performed three months after birth,
and he does not mourn for it if it dies before a ceremony has been
carried out to mark its first crawling. Among the Basuto the
mother and baby actually live for two months after birth in the
home of the maternal grandmother.
NUTRITION AMONG THE BANTU
261
Another taboo is that on sexual intercourse, which it is believed
would harm the child. The significance of the father's paternity
is, however, socially emphasized. He must provide special food
for the mother during her confinement, and is responsible for
sacrifices to the ancestors in connection with ceremonies marking
the birth and growth of the child. As has been stated, the father
has little to do with the child in these early years, and in case of
divorce he cannot claim the offspring, even though they are his by
right of lobola payment. Socially, as well as physiologically, it is
the mother with whom the child is almost exclusively concerned
during the first two or three years of its life.
Weaning . — As stated above, weaning takes place at a later date
than in civilized society. The child is not weaned until it has
developed emotionally a much more complex attitude towards the
mother and has reached a physiologically independent stage. It
has been suggested that this means that the emotional trauma
associated by some psycho-analysts with weaning is less marked
in the case of the Bantu child. So far as the evidence goes, it
appears that weaning takes place in Bantu society at a time when
the child is old enough to understand the meaning of punishment
and rebuke. Drastic measures are sometimes taken to wean the
child from the mother’s breast, which is sometimes smeared with
repulsive vegetable juices. Children are sometimes slapped for
approaching the breast or rebuked in terms of annoyance. Wean-
ing, then, does not take place gradually and without effort, but
has actually to be enforced, and constitutes the first barrier placed
between the child and its mother. The child’s interest is centred
almost exclusively around its mother’s breast, which provides, not
merely a physiological pleasure, but a feeling of comfort and
dependence. The forcible severance of this relationship constitutes
one of the child’s earliest experiences of social prohibition or
taboo.
In certain tribes there is yet another factor of separation from
the mother in that temporary adoption at weaning sometimes
occurs — the child may be taken to the house of its grandparents
for a while. It should be noted that sexual intercourse between
parents is resumed at about the same time as weaning takes
place, and in a society where privacy in such matters is unknown
and sex relations are observed and discussed among children of
all ages, it may be assumed that this has some effect upon the
child’s emotional attitude towards the father. Suckling is not a
262
FOOD AND WEALTH
purely physiological process, but also part of the legal code
centring around kinship obligations. Suckling is a legal obliga-
tion of motherhood, and is expressed in the rule whereby if the
infant is suckled by anyone except the mother, she must be paid
for the service; or that the child may not be suckled by anyone
except the mother or mother’s sister. The service of suckling is
regarded as one of the ways in which the mother’s brother derives
his rights over his nephews because they have derived nourish-
ment from his sister’s breasts.
Early childhood . — Weaning leads to a new phase in the life-cycle
of the Bantu child, lasting from the age of about three years to
about seven or eight. During early childhood children continue
to live in close association with the mother; the mother’s role as
provider of food takes on a different character, and she fulfils her
obligations in this respect by a series of complicated activities in
the production and preparation of food-stuffs, and what may be
called the child’s nutritive horizon becomes widened by the
realization that other members of the household play a part in the
task of food production and preparation. The children at this
stage feel little anxiety about their food or responsibility in regard
to its production. They feed with their mothers, and as the women
act as food distributors, the child is not likely to go short. They are
also allowed to beg from their elders at meal-times, behaviour
which would not be allowed in the case of older children. The
child at this stage, too, becomes aware of the mother’s role as a
cook, competence in this activity being regarded as an essential
part of the duties of a wife. The child also becomes aware that the
mother is almost exclusively responsible for the provision of
vegetable food, since she is the tiller of the soil. The little girl at
this stage begins in a rudimentary way to share in her mother’s
tasks, and as the obligations regarding cooking become known to
her, she comes to realize that her lobola price may depend upon
her skill.
The growing realization of household co-operation in the pro-
duction of food at this stage breaks into the child’s consciousness,
giving an early appreciation of the importance of social co-opera-
tion. The father, however, still plays but a small part in the child’s
life. He may provide special treats for the children, but normally
eats in the men’s place and does not appear in the family circle
at meal-times. He does not appear as the chief provider of food,
nor does he ask for the help of his son in food-producing activities.
NUTRITION AMONG THE BANTU 263
The individual who is most significant for the child from the nutri-
tional point of view is still his mother, and he becomes aware of
the differentiation in his relationship to other women in the kraal.
In polygynous kraals each household is a self-contained unit,
and a mother may rebuke her children for straying into other
huts at meal-times. The attitude of co-wives towards each other
becomes reflected in the consciousness of the children. They are
brought up together, but are separated at meal-times, and the
jealousy which is apt to arise between co- wives is frequently re-
flected in hostility between their children. This becomes more
significant at a later age, as children of different co-wives become
aware that they are competitors in matters of privilege and
succession. The child at this stage realizes the difference between
his mother’s sisters who may be substitute mothers and the co-
wives or wives of his father’s brothers, who are treated with less
tenderness and affection, though the same kinship term ( manana )
is applied to all these women.
A further widening of the child’s consciousness is produced by
the inclusion of the rules of eating etiquette and good manners
connected with food. Greed is rebuked, particularly if it is mani-
fested in the house of a stranger. Children going to visit their
friends are specifically cautioned against eating crumbs off the
floor, not from any hygienic motive, but because it suggests that
the child is not well fed at home.
The duty of sharing food is also taught. The basest deed con-
ceivable is to fail to divide a tempting morsel with everybody
present. This forms the initial situation for the rules of hospitality
which play such an important part in later life. The importance
of age and sex is also reflected in the distribution of food.
Later childhood . — The phase of early childhood is differentiated
from that of later childhood, not by any physiological change, but
by the fact that with the beginning of later childhood, the life
and occupations of the boy become sharply differentiated from
those of the girl.
The period between the eighth and tenth year and the attain-
ment of puberty is marked by three important social changes:
(1) the division of children according to sex and altered occupa-
tions; (2) the clear demarcation of age distinctions; and (3) the
beginning of economic activities proper. The child begins to join
other groups of his fellows on a basis of age and sex as distinct
from the life in the household which he has previously led. He
s. a. 1—19
FOOD AND WEALTH
264
forms a new routine in regard to his daily meals, and becomes
aware of the general sense of insecurity which Bantu peoples
necessarily have in regard to their food supply. The boy at this
stage is forbidden to eat any longer with his mother and sisters.
He eats with youths of his own age; he associates less with his
sisters, who are encumbered with the care of babies, while he
sets out on adventurous expeditions such as tending goats on the
hillside. He becomes more and more aware of the authority of his
older brothers, father and paternal uncles ; for example, his father
may rebuke him for slinking back to the fireside where there is
more security but less prestige. The age distinctions also become
marked — between the boys who merely tend the goats and the
youths who are promoted to the care of the cattle. A similar
differentiation takes place in the case of the girl when she begins
to sleep in the unmarried women’s hut in the kraal.
In spite of the partial disassociation between mother and
children, the former continues to act as the entrepreneur in
matters of food which she cooks and sends either to the men’s
place or to the young boys. The children are still dependent upon
her, though new ties of loyalty are being formed. Against the fre-
quent statements of communism in matters of food in Bantu
society, it must be stressed that the community is divided into
well-marked units; food must be shared, but it must be divided
only within the group and only in accordance with strict rules of
precedence. This is particularly important to the growing child
at this stage, when it becomes actively and painfully aware of the
shortage of food and consequently of the need for observing the
rules which regulate food distribution. There is much evidence
that at this stage children are frequently hungry, and this is appar-
ently not peculiar to Bantu society.
Adolescence . — While it is difficult to gather at what age older
and younger children become differentiated from each other, the
superiority of the cattle-herd over the goat-herd is undoubted.
He must be treated with great respect by his juniors, and has
complete licence to order them about or bully them. At meal-
times it is the seniors’ right to help themselves first from the dish
which the mother sends.
After initiation, which takes place at varying ages, the young
men appear to lead an easy life. They have certain duties in the
care of cattle, but these are not arduous, and they are beginning
to be concerned with begging lobola cattle from the members of
NUTRITION AMONG THE BANTU 265
their kinship group. It is at this point that the father becomes a
definite social factor in the individual’s life. It is he who enforces
the separation of the boys from their mothers and corrects their
manners. He controls their economic activities and is treated
with respect. With this authority is associated the father’s role
in the provision of the food supply, the cattle herd and their
products and, to some extent, the grain supply also. He is obliged
to support his sons until the age of marriage and even after. The
receipt of food marks the dependence of the child on his father to
an extent which we find hard to realize. He simply cannot acquire
food except from his parents’ hands. Food is not a commodity
which can be bought and sold, and the Bantu youth’s dependence
on his family is marked by the receipt, not of a money allowance,
but of actual food. The father has another important role to fulfil
at this time, namely, the provision of lobola cattle which the son
could not accumulate for himself except by waiting for many
years.
The father’s authority is in fact expressed in his role of possessor,
gatherer and controller of food, and this attitude towards author-
ity is subsequently extended to the chief. The distribution of a
slain beast among most Bantu peoples is carried out by the head
of the family or the village headman — in a small kraal they may
be the same person. The portions of the beast are distributed
according to certain set rules. The ideal man in Bantu society is
he who is never in want, and the enjoyment of plenty of food and
its generous distribution to friends and dependents is recognized
as an attribute of authority, whether of the father or of the chief.
Many observers have been so impressed by the offering of food
to travellers that they have implied that Bantu hospitality is
offered indiscriminately, but it appears that in fact the provision
of food for strangers is strictly regulated according to kinship
rules. Firstly, the duty of hospitality does not seem to be invariably
carried out — as in the case of other irksome rules, there are fre-
quent cases of evasion. Food may be cooked and hastily eaten
when guests are believed to be imminent, and there are magical
rites whereby guests and travellers on their way to the kraal may
guard themselves against such a calamity. The good Ba-Ila wife
is adjured at marriage to hide food for her husband so that he
should not have to do without, and there is a case recorded in
which a father beat his son for giving food to two men who were
unrelated to him. It seems, then, that hospitality was an ex-
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FOOD AND WEALTH
pression of kinship and other social obligations, though the com-
plexities of these may well have given an impression of indis-
criminate hospitality.
j. The Material Setting of Human Life and the Study of
Primitive Economics
The quest for food forms but a part, albeit the most important
part, of a very much wider cultural scheme by which human
groups adapt themselves to their geographical environment and
fashion objects of material culture. These two general aspects of
human culture will be discussed in Volume II, but at this point
we must again emphasize their importance. Even our superficial
survey of the cultures of such peoples as the Eskimo, the Tungus
and the Australian aborigines has revealed the intimate relation-
ship between geographical environment and all the other aspects
of culture — economic, political, magico-religious and so on. We
have also referred to the significance of material culture in condi-
tioning the character of human institutions (p. 240) and to the
importance of artefacts considered in their cultural context . Too
much emphasis cannot be placed upon the latter point, because
it is one which has been consistently ignored in most descriptions
of primitive technology.
Though it seems obvious today that no description of primitive
culture can be adequate without a consideration of the material
basis of human life, the scientific study of primitive economics is
of comparatively recent growth. This aspect of primitive life was
largely neglected in the earlier field records, for, to the untrained
observer, it is an aspect of the native’s life which appears to be
hardly worthy of study. It lacks the glamour of ceremonial, the
weirdness of magic and the piquancy of sexual customs. On the
theoretical side the economic systems of primitive peoples have
not always been treated realistically. In this field, “stages” of
economic life were invented ad hoc without the slightest empirical
enquiry as to whether any primitive economic institutions do
actually correspond with the supposed sequence of stages. For
Adam Smith, and other exponents of the “three-stage” theory,
men were first hunters, then shepherds, and finally agriculturists ;
for Bruno Hildebrand, they passed through successive stages of
exchange — barter, money and credit; and for Lewis Morgan, the
history of man’s economic development was divisible into two
stages of “savagery” and three of “barbarism”.
THE MATERIAL SETTING OF HUMAN LIFE 267
Again, the economics of primitive peoples were contrasted with
those of civilized nations, and were held up as simple prototypes
of modern forms of society, as exemplifying a mode of life from
which our own economic organization has emerged. According to
Karl Bucher, man’s original state was characterized by the
“individual search for food” without any social regulation; for
Engels, on the other hand, it was one of “primitive communism”,
a view in direct opposition to Bucher’s. None of these theories was
based upon a thorough empirical study of the realities of primitive
economic life. They selected only those aspects of it which, from a
very superficial examination, seemed to fit in with the view which
it was desired to establish. Only in recent years has any attempt
been made to study the economic systems of primitive peoples in
their own right, not as stages in a hypothetical evolutionary
process, but as working mechanisms whereby man adjusts himself
to his environment. By this method it has been found that
economic facts have important relationships to religion, law,
political organization and family life. The functional approach
to the problem has thus revealed the social significance, as well as
the great complexity, of primitive economic systems.
The existence of such systems is at first obscured by the absence,
in primitive societies, of the elaborate institutions of our own
society — banks, industries, complex systems of international trade,
and in particular the existence of money (as a medium of ex-
change and measure of value) upon which all of these are founded.
This accounts for many of the significant differences between
primitive economic systems and our own. Many of the concepts
of modern economics are not applicable without radical reformu-
lation to primitive society, as will become apparent when we
review the economic activities of primitive peoples in terms of
the traditional concepts of production, exchange, distribution
and ownership.
4. Production
The exploitation of the natural resources of the environment
constitutes the productive system of any people, and the organ-
ization of this system in primitive society differs in several im-
portant respects from our own. The first point which must be
mentioned is the character of work. As we have said, most
economic effort in primitive society is devoted to the production
of food. The activities involved in this have, quite apart from the
268
FOOD AND WEALTH
stimulus of real or potential hunger, a spontaneous interest lacking
in the ordinary work of an office or factory in contemporary civil-
ization. This will become clear when we reflect that most of the
food-getting activities of primitive peoples, such as fishing, hunting
and gardening, are recreations among ourselves. It does not
follow that primitive man takes an undiluted pleasure in such
activities — much of the labour connected with them is heavy,
monotonous or hazardous. But they do possess an inherent
interest lacking in most of the economic labour in modern civiliza-
tion, and much the same applies to primitive technology, in
which the craftsman himself creates an artefact, rather than being
merely a human cog in the machinery of production.
The spontaneous interest of work under primitive conditions is
reinforced by a number of social values attached to it. Skill and
industry are honoured and laziness condemned, a principle
exemplified in the folk songs and proverbs of the Maori: From
childhood onwards the virtues of industry are extolled, as in the
term ihu puku, literally “dirty nose”, applied as a compliment to
an industrious man because it implies that he is continually
occupied in cultivation with his face to the ground l ; on the
other hand, the twin vices of greed and laziness are condemned
in the saying: “Deep throat, shallow muscles”. Such social
evaluations as these give pride in successful and energetic work,
and stimulate potential laggards to play their part in productive
effort.
Another feature of primitive production is the close relationship
of art to work. One has only to walk through the galleries of an
ethnological museum to appreciate the way in which almost all
primitive artefacts are decorated or are constructed according to
symmetrical and graceful designs. Nor is aesthetic enjoyment
absent even from the quest for food. Thus the complex of social,
material and aesthetic values connected with agriculture in the
Trobriand Islands has been described as follows: “TheTro-
briandcr is above all a gardener, who digs with pleasure and
collects with pride, to whom accumulated food gives the sense of
safety and pleasure in achievement, to whom the rich foliage
of yam-vines or taro leaves is a direct expression of beauty. . . .
To the Trobriander all that is lovely to the eye and to the heart,
or — as he would put it more correctly — to the stomach, which to
him is the seat of the emotions as well as of understanding, lies in
1 Cf. our own expression “nose to the grindstone".
PRODUCTION 269
things which promise him safety, prosperity, abundance and
sensual pleasure.” 1
The interest of primitive work is increased, and its drudgery
mitigated, by the fact that it is often co-operative. Major under-
takings, such as house-building or the construction of large canoes,
usually require the labour of more than one person. And even
when the task concerned could be done individually, primitive
peoples often prefer collective labour. Thus, in Hehe agriculture
much of the cultivation is done individually or by small family
groups. But at the time of the annual hoeing of the ground, it is
customary for a man to announce that on a certain day his wife
will brew beer. His relatives and neighbours attend, help with
the hoeing, and are rewarded with beer in the middle of the day
and in the evening. This is not to be regarded as payment, since
casual visitors who have not helped with the hoeing may also take
part in the beer drink. Under this system, each man helps others
and is helped by them in turn. From the purely economic point
of view, the system has no advantage, since each man could quite
well hoe his own ground and the preparation of beer adds sub-
stantially to the work involved. But the system does possess
psychological advantages. The task of hoeing might well appear
endless if undertaken by each individual separately. Collective
labour, and the collateral activity of beer-drinking, changes a
dreary task into a social occasion. The same principle applies to
collective labour in general in primitive society, and to the social
activities of feasting, dancing and other forms of collective enjoy-
ment which frequently accompany it or mark its conclusion.
In a similar way, magico-religious beliefs and practices reinforce
the purely material motives in productive effort. These beliefs
and practices not only give confidence in the face of possible
failure, but also emphasize the importance of work and help to
organize productive effort. The magician is often also an expert,
and in this case beliefs in his magical powers reinforce his author-
ity in the organization of work. Again, there is usually a magical
or ritual cycle running parallel with the yearly cycle of productive
activity, different phases of which are inaugurated by magico-
religious ritual, thus ensuring that all members of the community
undertake their productive tasks in good time. Finally, such ritual
gives an added value to the bare struggle for existence, by bringing
it into relation with supernatural forces and mythological tradition.
1 Malinowski (5), Vol. I, p. 10.
FOOD AND WEALTH
270
In regard to the division of labour in primitive production, we
have already mentioned that this is founded almost entirely on
distinctions of sex. Apart from this, there is but little economic
specialization. This is to some extent implied in the low level of
technical achievement and lack of an economic surplus in primi-
tive communities. Such communities are unable to provide sup-
port for a number of specialists or to allow for the leisure necessary
for invention and the elaboration of the specialist skill of in-
dividuals freed from preoccupation with the food quest. Thus,
in primitive society a man may be an expert craftsman, but he
normally indulges also in the ordinary subsistence activities of
his culture — hunting, cultivation and so on.
We must refer in conclusion to some forms of economic group-
ing which might be described as “trade guilds” or occupational
groups. Thus, in Samoa carpenters were organized into a special
group called Sa Tangaloa , that is, “the Family of Tangaloa”, one
of the greatest gods in the Samoan pantheon. They were entitled
to material rewards and ritual privileges in connection with the
building of houses and canoes and, in western Samoa at least,
were organized into a well-defined trade guild. Again, among
many African tribes the importance of iron is reflected in the
occurrence of guilds of blacksmiths, having elaborate religious
cults and initiation ceremonies connected with membership.
Here, as in the Tobacco Society of the Crow, a particular type of
economic organization becomes an important focus of community
interest and the centre of magico-religious observances.
5. Exchange
Wherever a division of labour occurs, some mechanism of
economic exchange is necessary. Since the division of labour in
primitive society is founded primarily on sex, the basic form of
exchange is between men and women, especially between husband
and wife in the family. Such exchanges, which form part of the
wider system of mutual obligations between the two, are usually
informal in character and take place as part of ordinary day-to-
day activities. But the more spectacular and public exchanges o
wealth between individuals and groups are of a different kind,
and are usually not founded primarily on economic necessity or
convenience. For example, the exchange of tonga and oloa at a
Samoan marriage is not dictated by economic necessity. Both
consist of goods which the parties concerned in the transaction
EXCHANGE
271
are quite capable of producing for themselves and the whole
motivation of the elaborate system of exchange is social in
character. Much the same applies to the transactions connected
with cattle which are involved in lobola . These tend ultimately to
cancel out, since a woman’s lobola is normally used to procure a
wife for her brother, and so on indefinitely. This does not mean
that natives are indifferent to the material side of the transaction
— on the contrary, they are keenly aware of it, as is clearly seen in
the backbiting, quarrels and litigation which are apt to arise from
lobola transactions. But as purely economic mechanisms, that is,
mechanisms to provide people with goods which they could not
otherwise obtain, the transactions involved in the payment of
bride-price, and in primitive systems of exchange generally, are
of minor importance.
The exchange of goods and services in primitive society cannot
be understood in terms of such modern economic concepts as
“barter”, “purchase” or “wages”. When a service is rendered or a
material object handed over, there is usually no stipulation in
regard to return. Furthermore, services are often rendered and
goods handed over at collective gatherings; for example, in house-
building, in agricultural work (as described for the Hehe in the
preceding section), or at ceremonial distributions of food and
gifts.
These two facts — the lack of a stipulated return and the collec-
tive character of many economic exchanges in primitive society —
have been partly responsible for the mistaken assumption of a
system of “primitive communism”. No interpretation could be
more misleading. Irksome services are not rendered, nor valuable
gifts given, indiscriminately to everyone in the community or
from a diffuse feeling of benevolence and lack of self-interest or
sense of private property. They are regulated by tradition, and are
in the vast majority of cases associated with an expectation of
return, even though this may not be stipulated.
This basic characteristic of economic and social relationships in
primitive society has been termed the principle of reciprocity
which implies that the receipt of any service or material benefit
imposes upon the recipient an obligation to return to his bene-
factor at a later stage an equivalent service or material benefit.
The nearest approach, in our society, to an example of this
principle as it operates in primitive culture is the exchange of
gifts between friends. If a man gives his friend a gift on his birth-
FOOD AND WEALTH
272
day or at Christmas, he will normally expect to receive a similar
return gift in due course, and will be disappointed and probably
annoyed if such a gift is not forthcoming. The last sentence indi-
cates how the principle of reciprocity differs from the unspecified
and uncritical generosity implied in “primitive communism”.
But our example also illustrates how the operation of the principle
of reciprocity based upon social traditions differs from the
impersonal and calculating transactions which form the
core of modern economic systems and the basis of economic
analyses.
In connection with most transactions based on the principle
of reciprocity, the following common features should be
noted :
1. There is, at the initial giving, no stipulated return, though
such return is expected by the individual and sanctioned by
social tradition.
2. The exact value of the return is usually not precisely speci-
fied, though it is normally expected to approximate to that
of the original benefit.
3. The rendering of the return benefit may be delayed for a
considerable period.
4. The exchange involved does not take place in a haphazard
way between any two members of the community — it is
based on such relationships as friendship and kinship exist-
ing between them, and is thought of primarily as a reflection
of such relationships, rather than as a mechanism for
economic gain.
5. The exchange frequently takes place in connection with
specified occasions, for example, seasonal festivals and
marriages.
Very broadly, the above principles are applicable to economic
exchanges in primitive society, though some of them do not apply,
and others require qualification, in connection with specific trans-
actions. And in most cases other principles must also be added.
Among these a common one is the existence of closed circuits of
exchange , in which the nature of the return benefit, and occasion-
ally its value also, is traditionally defined. Thus in the Kula, to be
described presently, the two kinds of valuables involved can only
be exchanged for each other, and not for other economic goods.
In the case of bride-price, the nature of the payment, for example,
cattle and hoes among Bantu peoples, is specified, and the
EXCHANGE
273
amount is frequently a matter for bargaining and haggling,
though the latter are absolutely unthinkable in connection with
the Kula.
The fourth point mentioned above is of special importance in
primitive society. In our own society there are certain kinship
relationships which imply the giving of gifts, but these are for the
most part restricted to the individual family, though they may
include such close kin as uncles and aunts. In conformity with
what we know of the extensive ramifications of kinship bonds in
primitive society, the economic obligations of any individual are
more far-reaching than anything which occurs in our own society.
In addition to the bonds of kinship, other culturally defined
relationships may be expressed in the giving of gifts or the render-
ing of services, for example, the relationship between bond-
friends, or between a chief and his people. In all these cases the
economic exchanges are essentially personal in character, and
reflect the social relationships existing between the individuals
and groups concerned. Finally, we must emphasize the import-
ance of traditional occasions of exchange — births, initiations,
marriages, deaths, feasts, religious ceremonies, and major
economic enterprises such as house-building and collective
agricultural labour.
Many economic exchanges arc not private transactions between
individuals, but are a matter of public interest and are sanctioned
by tradition. This has an important bearing on productive effort.
People are stimulated to work, not only by their own economic
needs, but also by the knowledge that they will in the future have
to honour traditional economic obligations, and that failure to do
so will lead to opprobrium, ridicule, or even supernatural
punishment.
The mutual character of economic obligations is seen most
clearly in collective undertakings, for example house-building or
communal labour in agriculture, such as we have described for
the Hehe. Here the observation of a single undertaking might
create the impression that individuals are prepared to work for
one another out of the sheer goodness of their hearts, and without
the anticipation of any reward commensurate with the effort
which they expend. But when we consider a series of such under-
takings, we find that each individual helps and is helped in turn;
that he is prepared to put forth effort to assist a neighbour or
kinsman largely because he knows that he will need similar help
FOOD AND WEALTH
274
in the future; and that when laggards are consistently slack in
rendering assistance, they become the object of public condemna-
tion and in the last resort many find themselves unable to claim
the services of others whom they have themselves failed to help.
Similar principles are operative in the case of the exchange of
gifts. While it cannot be asserted that such considerations as we
have described are always present in the consciousness of in-
dividuals, they nevertheless constitute the dynamic core of
primitive systems of exchange and mutual service based on the
principle of reciprocity.
The simplest paradigm of the principle of reciprocity is the
exchange of gifts or mutual services between two individuals, a
relationship which may be graphically represented as follows, the
arrows indicating the handing over of material goods or the
rendering of some service :
A 7 * B
But it will be realized that most transactions in primitive society
are far more complex than this would suggest. Thus, in a typical
lobola transaction most of the cattle are provided by the father of
the bridegroom but with the assistance of other kin ; and though
they are formally handed over to the father of the bride, some of
them are distributed by him among her other kinsfolk. We might
represent such a transaction as follows, the arrows pointing to the
right indicating the transfer of cattle :
OTHER KIN
OF
22
bridegroom’s
bride’s father
OTHER
KIN OF
BRIDEGROOM
FATHER
j
! 1
I""*
BRIDE
pp ttif r.p nnvr * r r inw
This illustrates the way in which the payment of lobola binds
together, not only the two parties to the marriage and their
respective families, but also their remoter kin. Much the same
applies to other economic exchanges which, though founded on
the principle of reciprocity, are much more complex than the
simple exchange of gifts or services. Thus, in dealing with Hehe
chieftainship, we had occasion to comment on the system of
reciprocity existing between chief and people. The general out-
line of this system may be represented as follows:
EXCHANGE
»75
Obedience, service in war, tribute, ivory
and other traditional gifts.
Leadership in war, organization of ivory
trade, public administration, religious ser-
vices, and traditional disbursements, for
example, feeding warriors at war.
It follows from this that any particular transaction can only be
understood as part of a very much wider system. Let us consider,
for example, the way in which a man obtained a spear from a
blacksmith among the Hehe. The former, whom we may term the
“purchaser” in spite of the misleading implications of this term,
first supplied the smith with iron and charcoal in excess of that
required for his spear. While the smith was working upon the
spear, the purchaser either assisted him in the task or cultivated
his plantations for him, since Hehe blacksmiths, like most special-
ist craftsmen in primitive society, also engaged in the ordinary
food-getting activities of the people. The surplus iron and char-
coal accumulated by the smith in a series of such transactions
was used to make spears and other artefacts which were sent to
the chief, who in due course would reciprocate with a gift of
cattle, this being one of the traditional forms of disbursement
mentioned above. The purchaser in his turn would, as a warrior,
take part in cattle raids, by which the herds of the chief were
partly supplied. The individual transaction between a purchaser
and a blacksmith can therefore be fully understood only by con-
sidering it within the very much wider system of reciprocity of
which the institution of chieftainship was the focal point.
The character of primitive systems of exchange is partly
conditioned by the absence of money as a medium of exchange
and measure of value. It is true that most primitive societies have
traditional objects of more or less standardized value which are
prominent in particular exchanges — for example, the valuables of
the Kula, cattle among most Bantu peoples, pigs and shell orna-
ments in Melanesia, and the blankets, whale-oil and coppers which
figured so prominently in the dramatic exchanges of the potlatch.
Such objects of ceremonial value do not normally constitute
ordinary media of exchange, which can be freely used as is money
FOOD AND WEALTH
276
in our own society. Even in those primitive societies in which
some form of currency exists, the value of the objects concerned
and the way in which they are employed in economic transactions
vary from anything with which we are familiar. This may be
illustrated by reference to certain phases of economic life in
Rossel Island.
The natives of Rossel Island have two systems of currency,
known respectively as ndap and nko. The former consists of single
pieces of Spondylus shell, and the latter of strings of perforated discs
of the shell of the Giant Clam. Only the first of these will be con-
sidered here. It is believed that most of the currency in Rossel
Island was made by the gods at the beginning of time at spots
which are now sacred centres in the various districts. The making
and handling of currency is a matter of strict ceremonial obser-
vance, and is subject to numerous taboos. There are twenty-two
values of ndap , each having a special native name, but it will be
simpler if we refer to them as No. 1, No. 2, No. 3 and so on in
ascending order of value. The value of the different ndap is not
determined by scarcity, but by the traditional significance
attached to them, as will be seen from the following rough
estimate of the numbers of the higher-value ndap on the island :
No.
22 .
7
99
21 .
10
99
20 .
10
99
19 •
10
99
l8 .
20
99
17 •
7
99
l6 .
7
99
r 5 •
10
99
14 .
30
99
•
30-40
Thus, while there is a general tendency for the more valuable
coins to be more scarce, this tendency is not consistently opera-
tive. Among the lower values, No. 4 is the most plentiful item on
the island, yet it is of higher value than Nos. 1-3, which are less
common.
A complication in understanding the values of items of Rossel
Island currency is that the higher values cannot be expressed as
multiples of the lower, as they can in our own monetary system.
EXCHANGE
277
They can only be expressed in terms of interest on loans, and more-
over the “interest” is not calculated as a percentage on the loan,
but in terms of the time for which it is operative. The rule is that
a man who borrows a ndap of a given value must return at a later
date a ndap of higher value, the position of the latter in the value
scale being determined by the time which elapses between the
making of the loan and its repayment. Thus, a man who borrows
a No. 1 and keeps it for only a week or two must return a No. 2,
but the longer he keeps it the higher the value which must be
given in return, so that if the loan extends over several years, one
of the highest- valued ndap must be returned.
The system is complicated by several features. The return must
be made in the form of the single appropriate value, and not by a
number of ndap of lower value; it is, moreover, impossible to
obtain “change,” since the values are not multiples of each other;
and as there is a shortage of currency on the island, this entails
constant borrowing and lending. Moreover, the exact periods of
time involved in the increments of value are not definitely fixed,
and certain individuals take advantage of this. They accumulate
capital which they keep out on loan, and manipulate their
various monetary transactions to their own advantage. They
perform magic to secure the acquiescence of their debtors and
creditors in these negotiations.
The currency of Rossel Island is used in a variety of economic
transactions which also possess a social significance. We may
illustrate this by reference to the elaborate transactions involved
in the purchase of a pig, diagrammatically represented in Fig. 16.
This is a very much simplified version of the transaction, which
involves nko as well as ndap . It must be regarded as schematic
rather than descriptive.
When a man buys a pig, for example for a feast, the beast is
ceremonially divided into ten portions, each of which is paid for
by a particular item of currency. The highest value of ndap pays
for the best portion; the next highest for the next portion; and so
on, down to the worst portion, which is paid for by the lowest
value of ndap involved in the transaction. All the currency in-
volved is not provided by the buyer, though he must pay for the
best portion and sometimes for other good-quality portions, as
indicated by dotted lines. His relatives and other members of the
community also contribute, each individual providing a special
item of ndap which pays for a specified portion of the pig. These
FOOD AND WEALTH
278
other contributors arc concerned mainly with the purchase of
the inferior portions, though they may contribute towards pay-
ment for the better portions also, as indicated again by dotted
lines.
The currency thus mobilized for the purchase of the pig is not
all taken by the seller, who claims the higher values only. The
Fig. 16. — Buying a Pig in Rossel Island
remaining currency he redistributes, according to specified rules,
among his relatives and helpers who have assisted him in
feeding the pig.
The rules governing the distribution of the portions of pig are
likewise complex. Though the buyer has acted as entrepreneur
in the whole transaction, and though nominally he has bought at
least the best portion, he and his close relatives are forbidden by
EXCHANGE
«79
tradition to eat any of it, in fact, they carry out a sort of mourning
for the pig. The buyer hands over the best portion to one of the
contributors and the remaining portions are divided among the
others. An interesting rule governs this distribution. So far as the
highest values at least are concerned, a man may not consume
the actual portion for which he has paid.
The monetary system and principles of economic exchange in
Rossel Island, like the corresponding mechanisms in other primi-
tive societies, strike us at first as unnecessarily complicated, but
this is so only until we realize that their implications extend far
beyond the economic field. Though based upon the material
needs of the community and the material satisfactions of in-
dividuals, their main function is in establishing and maintaining
social relationships. Thus, the sale of a pig is not merely an
economic transaction, but reflects the bonds of kinship and
economic obligation existing between a number of individuals in
the community. As with production, so with exchange, we find
the economic systems of primitive peoples coloured at all points
by non-economic values and motives, a principle which is well
illustrated by the organization of the Kula.
6. The Kula
The Kula is an institution found amongst peoples who inhabit
some of the islands to the east and north of the eastern end of New
Guinea, for example, the Trobriand Islands, the Amphlett
Islands, the Loughlan Islands and Dobu. These people are of
diverse cultures, and though all co-operate in practising the Kula,
some details of the institution differ among the various communi-
ties concerned. The details described here refer to the Kula as
practised by the Trobriand Islanders.
The core of the Kula is the exchange of two kinds of articles,
red shell necklaces and white shell arm-bands between individuals
living in different communities. The articles (together called
vaygu'a) are used, apart from the Kula, only on rare occasions for
ornament, are easily manufactured in plentiful supply, and yet
are to the native the most valued objects which he possesses. They
are graded in value, and particularly valuable specimens have
special names, their history is known to all, and there is fierce
competition to obtain them. The communities form what might
be called an “exchange ring”, around which the two kinds of
articles are constantly passing from person to person in opposite
S.A. 1—20
28 o
FOOD AND WEALTH
directions, the necklaces moving clockwise and the arm-bands
anti-clockwise. An article of one type is exchanged only for an
article of the other type : two articles of the same type are never
exchanged. No specimen is ever held by any one individual for
any length of time, for to hoard vaygu'a is contrary to the code of
exchange. The transaction, the actual exchange, is performed
according to strict rules and a definite code of etiquette. It must
start with the presentation of an opening gift, a vaga , by one trad-
ing partner to another, and close by a return presentation of a
counter gift or yotile, the value of which must be equal to or
greater than the value of the opening gift. Several other types of
gift may be given to smooth the deal, but are not obligatory.
There is no haggling or bargaining, and the gifts are made
ostentatiously and in public.
There are four types of Kula transaction: individual unco-
ordinated exchange between men of the same Kula community,
inland exchange between two contiguous communities, relatively
unceremonious exchange overseas between communities near
each other, and ceremonial overseas exchange. This last, with
which we are mainly concerned, sometimes involves voyages of
over a hundred miles, and differs from the others in the higher
degree of organization which it entails; in that commodities such
as pottery, food and wood utensils are also exchanged; in the
pomp, ceremony and competition which mark its performance,
and in the danger, hazards, magic and myth associated with it.
Before examining the many activities involved in a large-scale
Kula expedition, we may consider the Kula community, that is,
the group of persons who act as a unit in overseas expeditions
and who exchange vaygu'a amongst themselves. Sometimes the
group consists of the adult males of a single village, though
usually it includes the men of several neighbouring villages, or
of a district or federation of districts. A district is a political unit
which has at its head a chief or sub-chief. It is the chiefs who
initiate and lead the expeditions, who provide most of the finance,
and who gain most wealth and prestige from them. A man must
belong to a Kula community before he can participate in the
Kula, and he may exchange vaygu'a only with certain members
of the limited number of communities with which his own com-
munity traditionally deals. Each community must of course deal
with at least two other communities. Moreover, there are definite
rules regulating the entry of individuals into the group. Not
THE KULA
281
everyone may belong to a group. A youth must be past adoles-
cence, must know some Kula magic, and must possess some
vaygu’a, and in a few communities must be of a certain rank.
Magic and vaygu'a are inherited from a mother’s brother, so that
a man may only enter the group if his maternal kinsmen arc
already in it. The only exceptions to this rule are the sons of
wealthy chiefs, who may be presented with magic and vaygu’a by
their father. Women generally do not take part in Kula exchange;
the sporadic exceptions to this show, as do the chiefs’ sons, how
the rules governing the Kula are modified by political rank, for
occasionally a chief’s wife may be permitted to exchange valuables
with her husband. Though women and children do not participate
in the exchanges, which constitute the core of the Kula, the
institution impinges upon their lives. They take part in the cele-
brations associated with it and enjoy the benefits of exchange of
goods, while women obey certain taboos in connection with it.
The initiation of a large overseas expedition, uvalaku , sets in
motion a train of associated activities. New sea-going canoes have
to be built and old ones overhauled. A chief or headman finances
the building of a canoe; a canoe expert prepares and fits the
materials, carves the prow-boards and performs the magic
necessary to canoe-building; kinsmen and friends of the chief
provide a constant labour force, while his subjects help at some
stages when communal labour is required. The people are paid
mostly in food, while the chief’s maternal kinsmen secure a claim
to form the crew of the boat. The technological process includes
the felling and hollowing out of a tree, the preparation of planks,
poles, an outrigger and a sail, the fitting of these items, and the
lashing of them together to form the canoe. The building of a
vessel capable of carrying a crew of at least six across a hundred
miles or more of Pacific Ocean requires a body of detailed knowl-
edge and a high degree of skill. Canoes are not navigable in all
weathers, however, and the times of sailing are partly determined
by weather and direction of wind. Punctuating the technological
process, but never supplanting knowledge and skill, are magic
rites to increase the efficiency of the canoe and to ward off dangers
from it.
The new canoes having been ceremonially launched, all the
canoes about to sail are displayed in a review, while the whole
community, men, women and children, join in a feast and cele-
bration. Shortly afterwards the crews collect certain goods from
282
FOOD AND WEALTH
neighbouring districts who specialize in theii production, and
provision their vessels with gifts from friends and neighbours. All
these must later be repaid. Finally, the fleet assembles and departs
for distant shores.
Magic has been mentioned in connection with canoe-building.
The Kula, an institution bound up with the most intense interests
of the natives, has its own specific magic embodying a variety of
rites and spells designed to ensure success for the individual by
making him irresistible to his trading partners, by safeguarding
him from dangers, and by preventing his companions from being
too successful. The magic of the Kula is rooted in a body of myths
believed by the natives to be accounts of events which once
happened, for example, the legend of the Kudayuri canoe
described in Chapter X.
It will be seen that the Kula is an institution which embraces
many activities and commands much of the interest of the com-
munities which practise it. In its major function it is both cere-
monial and economic. Though the Kula exchanges themselves
are not thought of as commercial in character, the overseas
expeditions do provide opportunities for collateral trade which
are of considerable economic importance. But these, like the Kula
exchanges proper, cannot be understood apart from the context
of social values — economic, political, ceremonial and magico-
rcligious — to which they are related.
7. Distribution and Ownership
The question of the claims exercised by individuals over the
products of economic effort in primitive society has often led to
considerable misunderstanding, epitomized in the hypothesis of
“primitive communism”. It is easy to see how this fallacy has
arisen. The principle of purely individual and exclusive owner-
ship unconditioned by the claims of others which constitutes our
idea of private property 1 has a limited application in primitive
society. Very broadly it applies only to personal possessions such
as tools, utensils, clothing, ornaments and so on. As regards these,
ownership is generally individual, though there may be a certain
amount of borrowing and lending as there is in our own society.
1 It is worth noting that even in our own society this conception of property does
not correspond absolutely with the facts — thus, a man’s exclusive enjoyment of his
own income is limited by his obligation to support his family as well as by taxation,
and he can only erect and use buildings on his own land subject to the regulations of a
local authority.
DISTRIBUTION AND OWNERSHIP 283
Even in societies where women occupy a relatively subordinate
position, their exclusive claims to their own belongings are usually
recognized, and the same may even apply to children. Thus,
Professor Lowie records that he once offered to purchase a blanket
belonging to a small boy among the Paviosto. The parents re-
ferred the request to the lad and were prepared to abide by the
price which he fixed.
The claims to minor possessions, then, are more or less exclu-
sively individual and rest upon the principle of individual effort
or upon utilization. Individuals own items of personal property,
cither because they have produced them or because they regularly
use them. As regards food, the former principle is also operative,
though here the question of ownership becomes more complex
and the existence of individual claims to the food supply is apt to
be obscured by the obligations of distribution, some of which we
have mentioned in connection with nutrition among the south-
eastern Bantu. In the next chapter we shall find many examples of
how individual productive effort establishes a claim to a portion
of the food supply, and also of how this principle is modified by
the traditional claims of other individuals.
When we come to more elaborate forms of property such as
large canoes, which require collective labour in their construction
and employment in productive activity, the superficial impression
of collective ownership becomes even more misleading. Thus
Rivers remarked that “one of the objects of Melanesian culture,
which is usually, if not always, the subject of common ownership,
is the canoe”. Malinowski has demonstrated the superficiality of
this statement with specific reference to fishing canoes in the
Trobriand Islands. It is true that several individuals are involved
in the scheme of “ownership” of the canoe, but the place of each
in this scheme is clearly defined. The master of the canoe, who is
also the captain of the crew and their official magician, finances
the initial building of the craft, and with the assistance of other
members of the crew is responsible for keeping it in good repair.
In the actual employment of the canoe, each man has a defined
place, such as “steersman”, “keeper of the nets”, or “watcher for
fish”. These positions, which are allocated on a basis of rank, age
and personal ability, define, not only the tasks which each man
carries out in fishing, but also his claims to a share of the catch.
Even a statement of these individual rights and obligations
in the case of a single fishing crew does not exhaust the socio-
FOOD AND WEALTH
284
logical study of canoe ownership, which is conditioned by external
obligations. Thus, when a communal fishing expedition has been
organized, every canoe is bound to attend. Furthermore, the
catch is not consumed exclusively by the crew and their families.
Part of it is exchanged with people of inland villages for vegetable
food, a transaction based on the principle of reciprocity which is
not merely economic but also social, in so far as it emphasizes the
interdependence of the two types of community. But here, again,
it must be emphasized that the transaction is not “collective”.
Each fisherman indulges in a series of exchanges with individuals
from inland villages. These are based on the principle of recipro-
city; for while they arc conducted in a free-and-easy manner and
are governed by rules of good manners, they involve definite self-
interest, and there is much keen calculation of the advantages
involved.
The relation of a group of men to a canoe in the Trobriand
Islands is no more an example of “communistic ownership” than
is a Joint Stock Company in our own society. This is broadly true
of all other alleged examples of “collective ownership”, though
there are naturally extensive variations in the rules of property
from one primitive society to another. The principles of distribu-
tion and the ownership of property must be defined for each
primitive community in relation to different types of material
objects. To this statement it must be added that in many primitive
societies various forms of immaterial property exist, and these
bear at least a superficial resemblance to our own laws of patent
and copyright. Thus, among many Amerindian tribes the right to
perform specific songs and dances may be “bought” by individuals
and even inherited in the same way as material property. Some-
times, as we have seen among the Crow, such rights may be
exercised by all members of a voluntary association, but each
member must acquire them by the individual payments which
constitute his membership fee. In a similar way magical spells and
ritual privileges may be purchased in many primitive societies.
Closely related to the possession of such immaterial property,
which confers prestige upon the owner, is the ownership of
objects of ceremonial value, for example, the valuables employed
in the Kula or the coppers and other forms of wealth used in the
potlatch. Ownership of such objects is always circumscribed by
traditional rules and above all by the obligation of generosity.
Though wealth confers prestige in many primitive communities,
DISTRIBUTION AND OWNERSHIP
285
it is the giving away of such wealth rather than its mere possession
which is significant. Generosity is honoured in primitive com-
munities, whether in an informal way as merely enhancing a
man’s reputation and popularity, or in the highly developed
institutions of ceremonial exchange and distribution which we
have mentioned. Finally, it must be mentioned that this principle
is often restricted at the point where generosity becomes ostenta-
tion. In such cases the individual is forbidden to display generosity
above his station, and social sanctions, ranging from ridicule to
severe penalties imposed by outraged chiefs, are employed to
restrict the extent to which a man may acquire prestige by the
display of generosity.
Something must be said in conclusion about the economic
evaluation of women in primitive society, concerning which it has
often been said that they are regarded as property. This is one of
those dangerous half-truths which lead to a complete misunder-
standing of the position. It is true that women are the subject of
many economic transactions ; and that material goods are handed
over in return for their economic, biological and personal services,
as we have seen to be the case in the custom of lobola . The econ-
omic value of women is even more striking where, owing to the
poverty of material culture and a simple ecology, there is little
else in the nature of wealth. Thus in Australia women are con-
centrated in the hands of the old men, and in this regard they
play much the same role in maintaining the position of a privileged
class as does material wealth in other communities. But the
economic evaluation of women does not mean that they are “mere
chattels”, as has been asserted in many of the less reliable ethno-
graphic records. In all primitive societies women have, as we have
seen, certain definite rights in the economic, social and even the
magico-religious spheres. The fact that their services are often
evaluated in economic terms implies, not degradation or anything
approximating to it, but a material recognition of their value to
the community, a value which is at the same time social and
economic. Here, as in primitive economics generally, the two
kinds of values — social and economic, spiritual and material —
are inextricably intertwined in a way which makes it impossible
to interpret primitive attitudes in terms of our own more rigidly
defined categories.
While it is difficult to generalize about the ownership of pro-
perty in primitive communities, it is clearly wrong to describe it
286
FOOD AND WEALTH
as communistic. When a number of persons are involved, their
specific claims are usually clearly defined, and are furthermore
limited by a variety of social, political, ceremonial and magico-
religious rights and obligations. The complex interlocking of such
individual rights and obligations differs profoundly from any-
thing which can be called “primitive communism”. This will
become apparent when we turn in the next chapter to the most
significant form of ownership of all — namely, that which defines
the rights of men to the land which they inhabit and to the food
and other benefits which it provides.
8 . Bibliographical Commentary
For a general survey of primitive types of economic activity,
consult Herskovits (3), also Thurnwald, R. (1), and the chapters
by Bunzel and by Lowie in Boas (3). For a comparative study of
primitive types of ecology see Forde (1).
The best introduction to the study of nutrition in primitive
culture is Richards (1). Valuable accounts of the place of food in
social life are contained in Bell (1), Fortes, M. and S. L. (1),
and Richards (4), as well as in more general works on primitive
economic systems. Among these may be specially mentioned
Firth (5, 10 and 13), Schapera and Goodwin in Schapcra (1) and
Stevenson (1). Particular phases of primitive economic life are
discussed in Baumann (1), Benedict (1), Elkin (1), Fei (1),
Field (1), Firth (2), 1 Forde (2), Garth (1), Hogbin (1, 6 and 8),
Krige (1), Oberg (3), Stanner (1 and 2), and Thurnwald, R. (2).
For a fuller discussion of the types of economic activity briefly
described in this chapter, consult, on nutrition among the south-
ern Bantu, Richards (1); on Trobriand agriculture, Malinowski
(5); on agricultural co-operation among the Hehe, Brown and
Hutt (1); on the carpenters’ guild of Samoa, Mead (1); on the
currency system of Rossel Island, Armstrong (1); on the Kula,
Malinowski (1), and on the ownership of Trobriand canoes,
Malinowski (2).
1 Reprinted and revised in Chapter IV of Firth (5).
CHAPTER VIII
LAND TENURE
/. Man and his Land
The study of land tenure in any primitive community involves a
statement of the relations of the human beings composing it to
the land which they occupy, relations which are culturally defined
in terms of several aspects of culture — economic, political, legal,
magico-religious and so on. As we saw in the preceding chapter,
our own legal conception of ‘ ‘ownership ’ 9 is to a large extent in-
applicable to primitive property, and this is particularly signifi-
cant in the case of land.
The three aspects of culture which are of primary importance
in the study of land tenure are geographical environment,
economics and law. The first of these is significant in determining
to some extent the character of ecological adjustment. Even if
we did not know from observation, we could predict that land
tenure would be different among the Eskimo, the Bantu, and
again on the north-west coast of America, because of the very
different geographical and climatic conditions under which the
various communities live, the different natural resources available
to them and the different systems of material culture by which
they exploit their environment.
But although geographical environment is a limiting factor in
the ecological adjustment of any people, it cannot be regarded
as a simple determinant. Under similar geographical conditions,
different peoples have developed widely varying economic
systems, involving ways of organizing production and the tradi-
tional rules governing the exchange and distribution of food and
wealth. All of these have an effect in determining the relationship
of a human community to their land and its resources.
But a simple statement of ecological adjustment and of the
principles of economic organization does not exhaust the field of
land tenure. This involves rules and customary usages which often
impose irksome obligations upon individuals or frustrate their
desires by limiting their claims to the good things of life. As
287
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LAND TENURE
always, attempts are at times made to flout or evade such rules
and obligations. There is consequently a need for a legal sanction
for land tenure in order to enforce the cultural norms upon which
it is founded.
Though we have mentioned the three aspects of culture which
are of major importance in the study of land tenure, we must
refer also to the relevance of other aspects in particular systems.
Some political authority, centralized or diffused, is necessary to
organize the relationship of a human community to its land. The
rules of land tenure are largely, though not entirely, observed
from habit, based upon the fact that they have been inculcated
into the mind of every individual reared in the culture concerned
as part of its educational system. As we shall see, land tenure is
frequently supported by magico- religious sanctions. And in all
human communities the recreational, aesthetic and ceremonial
activities of the people serve to establish bonds between them and
their common territory. These sentimental bonds are reinforced
by day-to-day activities within the territory in which life is lived.
Though it is difficult to define them with any precision, they are
among the most important motives in the social life of human
beings, who are often prepared to sacrifice comfort, convenience
and even life itself for the land to which they are united by
cultural bonds.
The study of primitive land tenure is thus one which requires
an elaborate theoretical background, and a keen appreciation of
the many factors involved in the definition of man’s relationship
to his land. The lack of these in the past has often led to mis-
understandings which, in the relationships between Europeans
and natives in regard to land, have produced far-reaching and
tragic consequences.
Sometimes the maladjustments following the acquisition of
native lands by Europeans have been due to ruthless expropria-
tion. More frequently they have been due to failure to recognize
the manifold aspects of primitive land tenure : the importance of
food resources, and the effect upon these of European intrusion;
the complex interlocking of individual economic and legal claims,
such that no one individual can be said to “own” the land or to
be legally entitled to “sell” it; the distinction between our legal
conception of permanent ownership and native practices in
regard to temporary use of land ; and finally the complex senit-
mental values and magico-religious beliefs which establish a bond
MAN AND HIS LAND
289
between man and his land that transcends a material interpreta-
tion in purely legal and economic terms. The importance of the
theoretical study of land tenure in the practical problems of
native welfare and administration will be discussed in Volume II.
For the moment we are concerned with the mechanisms of land
tenure as they operate under primitive conditions.
Among hunting and food-gathering peoples the principles of
land tenure are most difficult to define. Such peoples usually have
a segmented political organization, and live in small groups or
bands which wander in search of food over a defined area of
territory, a typical example being the Australian horde. Super-
ficial observation at once suggests a system of primitive commun-
ism, but closer investigation reveals the existence of individual
rights and obligations. It is true that all members of the horde
may hunt game and gather vegetable foods over the whole of
the horde territory. But the food thus acquired belongs in the first
instance to the individual who obtains it. This individual owner-
ship is conditioned by the claims of other individuals, and specific-
ally by the mutual obligations between husband and wife and
between fellow-members of the same camp. These obligations are
expressed in some of the Karadjeri myths given in Chapter III,
Section 10. But it must be remembered that the individuals con-
cerned in the distribution of food are kinsfolk to each other and
their mutual obligations derive from the individual bonds of
kinship existing between them. There is a certain amount of
casual hospitality and generosity, as in all societies, but the
dynamic core of the system of economic distribution is to be found
in the individual obligations arising from kinship, obligations which
are sometimes very precisely defined. Thus, among certain tribes,
a kangaroo is divided according to a traditional pattern, special
portions of the carcase being allocated to specific kinsfolk.
The economic exploitation of land among the Australian
aborigines, then, can only be understood in terms of their social
organization. It has also a magico-religious sanction in terms of
the myths of the dream times and the contemporary ceremonial,
totemic and otherwise, which binds an individual to his horde
territory. Though an aborigine enjoys a “walkabout”, he always
wishes to return to his horde territory to die, for it is to this land
that he is bound by material, social and religious ties. 1
1 For a moving description of the strength of such motives, see the novel Qmardoo ,
by Katherine Susannah Pritchard.
LAND TENURE
290
Though our information for other hunting and food-gathering
communities is less complete, we can discern in each of them
examples of the individual character of rights to land and its
resources. But this becomes more apparent when we come to
pastoral and agricultural peoples, among whom it is usually
necessary to define the allocation of good pastures and agricul-
tural land. Here again we readily gain a superficial impression of
collective ownership, but closer investigation reveals once more
the essentially individual system of rights and obligations under-
lying such systems of land tenure. To provide examples of these,
and to indicate how land tenure operates in primitive society, we
shall, in the next two sections, give digests of two excellent
ethnographic records of land tenure among the people of Wogco
and among the Nyakyusa respectively. It will be seen that they
differ considerably from each other, as they do from other primi-
tive systems of land tenure. But they both exemplify certain
principles of explanation and interpretation which are applicable
in primitive society generally.
2. Land Tenure in Wogeo
Wogeo is one of the Schouten Islands situated off the northern
coast of New Guinea, not far from the mouth of the Sepik River.
It is divided into five districts, each containing a number of
villages situated on the coast (Map IV). Usually two patrilineal
LAND TENURE IN WOGEO
291
clans occupy a village, each clan having a headman and deputy-
headman. A plan of the village of Dap is given in Fig. 17.
Except in a few places, the soil of Wogco is everywhere rich.
Fig. 17. — Dap Village, Wogeo
The names of only the principal householders are given below; where two men
share a house the name of the one responsible for its erection is put first.
House 1. Clan A; Marigum, the kokwal
„ 2. Clan A; Waru (Marigum’s father’s “classificatory” brother’s son)
„ 3. Clan A; Tafalti (Marigum’s eldest son)
{ Aligned with Clan A; Sakum
Clan A; Sawang (Marigum’s brother’s son)
„ 5. Aligned with Clan A; Kalal
,, 6. Clan A; Jaua (Marigum’s sister’s son)
„ 7. Clan B; Bagasal, the kokwal
„ 8. Clan B; Sabuk, a ngaro
! Clan B; Wiawia (Bagasal’s brother)
Clan A; Wiap (Marigum’s father’s sister’s son)
Clan B; Sabwa (a distant relative of Bagasal)
Clan B; a widow and her family
The symbol X indicates the position of nanarang stones
For a consideration of the principles of land tenure, the land may
be divided into three types: forest land, building sites in the
villages, and land used for agricultural purposes.
Forest land . — The dense vegetation of the forest provides timber
LAND TENURE
292
for houses and for canoe-making. Wild pigs and smaller game are
hunted and certain fruits and berries collected. Particular shrubs
and creepers are necessary for magical purposes, and deposits of
ochre provide cosmetics and hair-dyes.
Within each district all persons have an equal right to the
products of the forest. But once a man has cut down a tree, it
belongs to him. Likewise, fruit and ochre when gathered are
individual possessions of the person who collects them. All
members of a communal hunt may claim a portion of the bag,
and a special joint of every pig snared is reserved for the man who
has provided the snares, even if' he has taken no part in the hunt.
People seldom venture into the forest land of districts other
than their own, because the occasion for doing this rarely arises.
If they should do so, their action is likely to lead to suspicion that
they are there for some evil purpose, such as adultery or sorcery,
since it is assumed that they can have no legitimate business on
forest land other than their own.
The same principles apply to the sago swamps, which provide
thatch and farinaceous food, except that here the rights are
exercised by the village instead of the district. The question
whether a man might take produce from the sago swamps of
another village is regarded by the natives as foolish — why should
they go on a journey when they need only take a short walk ?
Much the same applies to questions asked by the ethnographer
regarding the ownership of rock outcrops and patches of poor soil,
to which the natives replied: “Do you say that the ash which falls
from your cigarette is yours — that no one else may touch it ?”
Building sites . — Each village is inhabited by two (or rarely
three) clans, at the head of each of which is a headman ( kokwal )
who has a subordinate or deputy ( ngaro ). Ties of loyalty and day-
to-day co-operation are determined more by common residence
than by kinship, though for the most part these coincide, owing
to patrilineal descent and inheritance of agricultural land,
coupled with patrilocal marriage. But this is not universally
followed. A man with much land may hand over some of it to a
favourite daughter, in which case he insists that her husband
should come to the village to live. In this case the children are
associated with their mother’s father’s clan, with the same
privileges as if they were descendants in the patrilineal line. This
is not, however, the case when a man voluntarily comes to live in
his wife’s village owing to friendship for her kinsmen, quarrels
LAND TENURE IN WOGEO 293
with his own, or ill-health, which is always attributed to evil
magic. In such cases the man receives no land of his own, and the
children revert at maturity to membership of their father’s clan.
The rule regarding building sites is that a man has a right to
build a house in the village nearest to the agricultural land which
he is entitled to cultivate. In the case of matrilocal marriage
dictated by the woman’s father’s wishes, the husband acquires
full rights in his wife’s village. When matrilocal residence is due
to free choice, it is a temporary arrangement, and his sons finally
migrate back to their father’s village.
The position of widows in this residential system varies accord-
ing to circumstances. The widow of a headman is expected not to
re-marry, and to remain in her deceased husband’s village, where
food is provided for her by her sons and her husband’s brothers.
Widows of ordinary men have a choice of residence. If they decide
to return to their parents’ village, they may take their young
children with them, but these are expected to return at puberty
to their father’s village. This obligation, however, is sometimes
neglected when the widow’s brothers have surplus land which
they are prepared to allocate to her children.
Each village contains a men’s house ( niabwa ), a more im-
pressive structure than ordinary dwellings, which serves as a club,
meeting-house, a store for sacred objects and sleeping quarters
for the unmarried men. All men in the village, and their close
relatives from elsewhere, have an obligation to help in the con-
struction of a niabwa . These are the only people who have a right
to enter without invitation.
In the construction of dwelling-houses a man is helped by his
fellow-clansmen, who are given a meal at the end of each day and
a feast at the conclusion of the work. Fellow-clansmen assisting
in this way have a right to demand a return in kind at a later
date, and this is their principal motive in rendering assistance.
The house is the husband’s property — he may destroy it in anger
if he wishes. But he must then provide another, for he has an
obligation to provide shelter for his wife and family. In polygynous
households each wife has her own portion of the dwelling beyond
which she is not supposed to go. The husband visits each wife in
turn. Only bond-friends and close kin may enter the house without
permission.
Usually each clan occupies one end of the village, with the
niabwa in the middle, but a choice of site is allowed, subject to
LAND TENURE
294
the rule that the headman of the village may intervene if the
proposed location is likely to cause inconvenience to others, A
man usually chooses to build alongside his father’s dwelling, or if
the latter be dead, upon the identical site. One spot in the village,
adjoining the niabwa , where materials employed in ceremonies
are thrown after use, is avoided by both sexes. The beach ad-
joining the village is divided among the branches of the clans, but
the boundaries are not precisely defined nor is any objection
raised to trespass. A man normally draws up his canoe on the
portion of beach associated with his branch of the clan, but in the
season when gales are frequent, all canoes may be drawn up in
the most sheltered section of the beach.
Agricultural land . — The whole of the coastal belt of the island,
with the exception of village sites, marshes and waste land, is
used for cultivation. No manures are employed, nor is rotation of
crops practised. Plots must therefore be left to lie fallow for about
ten years after cultivation. The soil is rich, and provides plentiful
supplies of taro, bananas and other crops throughout the year.
Coco-nuts are available perennially, and there is an annual
harvest of Canarium almonds and other nuts. The importance
attached to the produce of the land is exemplified in the custom
of calling a good strain of taro after the man who developed it,
and of naming trees after the man who looked after them during
the earliest years of their growth.
The belt of coast flanking each village for about a third of a
mile on each side is known by the name of the village — for example,
“the ground of the Dap folk” — while the villagers distinguish
sections of the land associated with the two component clans.
These sections are subdivided into named allotments, boundaries
being fixed by crests of hills, streams, pathways, boulders or trees.
Great care is taken to train children in a knowledge of the names
and approximate limits of these allotments, and most adults
know the boundaries of all allotments in their district.
Some of the allotments are large (about twelve acres) and some
much smaller, different rules of land tenure applying to the
respective types. In the case of a large allotment, all members of
the clan in whose territory it occurs, and their close blood relatives
living elsewhere, have an equal right to cultivate a portion. After
the fallow period the headman either clears a portion himself or
permits another man to do so, others following on as new gardens
are required. The clan does not collaborate in clearing the area,
LAND TENURE IN WOGEO
295
and neither the group as a whole nor any member of it has the
power to determine the size or location of portions selected for
cultivation. When a man has selected a site, no one may take it
from him, and his crop is private property.
The large allotments are used exclusively for cultivation, but
the smaller ones are valued also for their fruit and nut trees. The
smaller allotments constitute the bulk of the agricultural land.
Apart from occasional cases of joint cultivation by fathers and
sons or by brothers, every adult male claims from ten to twenty
allotments from which he takes the crops which he cultivates and
also collects fruit and nuts. His right to such produce is individual
and absolute, and he may dispose of it as he wishes, subject to
certain customary obligations and privileges. Thus a man will not
object if a kinsman takes coco-nuts from his trees, provided that a
statement of the number taken is made afterwards, and of course
he may claim a similar privilege in return. Protection against
imposition or deliberate theft is provided by putting a taboo sign
near the land and reciting spells, which are believed to bring ill-
ness to the culprit. Some fruits, such as pawpaws, are so common
that it is not thought worth while to ask permission to take them.
Agriculture demands a certain amount of co-operation, but
there is no organized gardening team. A man asks for the assist-
ance of his neighbours, giving them a meal and returning the
favour at a later date. Most of the land surrounding a village
belongs to the villagers, though outsiders sometimes have rights
to parts of it as a result of matrilocal marriages and other
anomalies.
Disputes over boundaries are rare, since the limits of these are
well known to the villagers, to whom appeal may be made. In one
dispute over three self-sown almond trees, one of the claimants
ringbarked the three trees to end the quarrel, since kinsmen
should not squabble. The other, a bad-tempered man, retaliated
by ringbarking three of the first man’s trees. It was agreed that
the first man had the better claim, but, though he won universal
sympathy, no further action was taken. In another similar dispute
the trees were also killed “so that the anger, by dying in the forest,
might leave the village at peace”. It is stated that if such a dispute
should lead to an open breach, the headman would intervene,
cither by a formal decision as to ownership, or by ordering the
trees to be destroyed.
Inheritance . — The right to practise agriculture and to collect
LAND TENURE
296
fruit and nuts normally passes from a father to his sons, to each of
whom several plots are given during childhood, and more are
subsequently allocated until the rights to all have been given up.
The father is expected to be fair in this, though his two eldest
sons usually receive more than the others. If a man dies while his
sons are still young, his brother holds the land in trust for them.
After a man has declared which plots will be inherited by each
of his heirs, his death is never followed by disputes between them.
But the sudden death of a man who has not declared his wishes
may be followed by serious quarrels. The eldest son in such cases
is supposed to make a suitable distribution, but sometimes the
younger sons are dissatisfied. In such cases the dispute is settled
by elder relatives or by appeal to the headman.
This system means a disadvantage for persons descended from
a long line of men, each of whom was the member of a large
family. Men thus handicapped may appeal to relatives or to the
headman to allow them the use of some of their land. In such
cases the original owner receives a small portion of the harvest,
not as rent, but in recognition of his kindness and the fact that
“the man who cares for the trees is a stranger to the land”. Rights
of usufruct acquired in this way may be passed on to heirs, though
it is said that the descendants of the original owner who permitted
the planting of trees might cut them down without giving com-
pensation. It is stated, however, that a man would need grave
provocation to do this. A man who has the right to cultivate more
land than he needs may, with the approval of his near kinsfolk,
transfer some of it to some particularly unfortunate distant rela-
tive. Such voluntary transfer demands no return.
As there is no shortage of land in Wogeo, wars over land are
unknown. Rivalry between districts is keen, and cases of theft and
adultery have in the past led to fights; but these were never
followed by territorial readjustments or changes in the normal
sequence of inheritance.
Marriage and land . — The only persons, apart from legitimate
heirs, to whom land may be handed over in perpetuity are
daughters, who are sometimes given land as a dowry. Such
women do not take the land for their private use, but entrust it to
their husbands. In these circumstances the man uses the land in
the normal way for the benefit of the whole family, but he has no
personal claims. In the case of divorce, all land rights revert to the
wife. A man using dowry land is expected to hand over some of
LAND TENURE IN WOGEO
«97
the produce to his wife’s father or brother. Such land is inherited
by the woman’s son, usually the eldest, but the obligation to
hand over produce to her relatives is not passed on. There is a
strong feeling that dowry land should ultimately revert to the
patrilineal group to which it originally belonged, and marriages
are often arranged so as to effect this. For example, a man who
has inherited land from his mother may give it as a dowry to his
daughter and marry her to his mother’s brother’s son’s son.
Sometimes the return may be delayed for a generation, and may
be effected by a woman being given the land as dowry and marry-
ing her father’s father’s mother’s brother’s son’s son’s son (Fig. 18).
B 4 b 4 A 4
i* ig. 18. — Reversion of Dowry Land in Wogeo
In the first instance, a woman a 1 of clan A marries B 1 of clan B and
is given dowry land which passes to her son, B*. This land may be
made to revert to clan A as dowry land cither by marrying b* to A*
or by marrying b 4 to A 4 .
A man who inherits from his mother also has rights, under
patrilineal inheritance, to land in his father’s village. The situa-
tion may sooner or later be resolved by two brothers separating,
one cultivating the dowry land and the other taking up the patri-
lineal inheritance in another village.
Women and land . — Land is regarded primarily as the men’s
affair. This does not imply loss of status by women, since they
have their own spheres of activity, such as cooking and care of the
house, from which men are excluded. Men and women share
equally in agricultural work, but control over land is exercised
by the men, who make all decisions regarding its use and dis-
LAND TENURE
298
posal. Women, however, have definite claims in regard to land —
they must be given sufficient plots by their husbands to maintain
the family food supply. Widows returning to their own people are
likewise entitled to claim the use of land from their brothers, and
this may also occur in the case of divorce.
Inheritance by distant relatives . — If a man dies leaving no male
heir, his land goes to his daughter. In such cases, however, and
also when a man has no children at all, the difficulty is often fore-
stalled by adoption, which is practised by the majority of child-
less couples. If this does not occur, cultivation rights of a childless
man pass to his nearest male kinsman, stress being laid on priority
of birth. Relationship in this case may include a female, though
the patrilineal principle takes priority. The system of inheritance
is identical with the rule of succession in the Royal Family in
England, except that in Wogeo women rarely actually hold the
property, whereas in the English monarchy they may succeed to
the title.
Though this is the officially correct legal rule, it is frequently
varied in practice, for there is a tendency for the property of a
man who dies without male heirs to be confiscated by the head-
man. This would never occur if there were a male heir. High-
handed action by the headman in such cases is condemned but
usually accepted in practice. There is some justification for it,
since a headman, having more wives and therefore a larger
family than a commoner, normally needs more land. Further-
more, his official position entails more calls on his generosity, and
his authority in the village is largely dependent upon his wealth.
In order to meet his obligations, the headman has the right to
demand help from his clansmen in agricultural work — they spend
an average of one day in eight in his service. At the time of village
feasts, the headman may prohibit the gathering of certain crops
to ensure an adequate supply for all guests — the only occasion
when any person is permitted to interfere with the harvest of
another.
Land tenure and religion . — Wogeo land tenure is influenced by
beliefs in certain spiritual beings called nanarangs. These are of
several types, but certain types only are connected with land
tenure.
In native thought Wogeo is the centre of the earth, and has
always existed. It is likewise the cradle of the human race. In
the beginning it was surrounded by empty sea and was populated
LAND TENURE IN WOGEO
299
exclusively by nanarangs. Several of these sailed away in canoes,
eventually changing themselves into new lands — the mainland of
New Guinea and neighbouring islands — which represent parts
of their bodies. The nanarangs left behind on Wogeo instituted all
social customs and technical practices, which were subsequently
taken over from them by human beings, whose origin is obscure.
After the appearance of human beings on Wogeo, the nanarangs
disappeared, but before they did so they created the inhabitants
of all other places. When natives of Wogeo meet people from other
areas, whose cosmogony is different, they dismiss their beliefs
with contempt: “They are so stupid that they even deny the
truth of what we tell them”. The insular myths of Wogeo provide
a charter for its occupation by its present inhabitants, much as in
civilized countries national history is often used to provide a
justification for traditional boundaries and national aspirations.
Other nanarangs , who were responsible for the details of Wogeo
topography, probably provide a similar charter for the division
of the island into districts. Each district has its own set, and its
members refer to these as “our own nanarangs ”. These beings
created the natural features of the several districts, and a moral
tale is associated with such acts of creation. They also gave the
knowledge of particular varieties of magic to the inhabitants of
their own districts, who have the exclusive right to practise them.
Finally, another group of nanarangs left commemorative blocks
of stone in each village (Fig. 17), and handed over the rights to
building sites and agricultural land to the patrilineal ancestors
of the present inhabitants. The large blocks of stone are associated
with the land rights and rank of headmen and their deputies.
They are surrounded by a pavement of smaller stones — the
“flfltfflra/zg-helpers” — which provide a vague sort of authority for
the land rights of commoners.
“ Title Deeds” — Though the natives of Wogeo are illiterate, the
inhabitants of each village have material embodiments to their
claims to particular allotments of garden land in the niabwa (men’s
house). When a niabwa is constructed, each rafter is lashed in place
by one male villager, or occasionally two. This gives them a
title to particular garden land, and the privilege of lashing a
particular rafter is passed on from father to son. The legal associa-
tion of lashing the rafter and cultivation rights is clearly recog-
nized in native statements, for example, “I fasten this rafter; that
is why I have gardens in those plots”.
3 oo LAND TENURE
The sentimental value of land . — The culturally defined relation-
ship of a Wogeo native to his land is supplemented by a senti-
mental attachment. Old people like to work in the gardens as long
as they can, even after they have ceased to be of practical assist-
ance — it was said of an old woman: “She wishes to have earth
upon her hands until she dies”. A dying man will sometimes ask
to be carried on a stretcher around his garden plots, so that he
may look for the last time upon the land he has tilled so often.
The fact that a man cultivates certain land is expressed by the
native term “he watches over it”, the same phrase as is used in
connection with caring for children. A man will often “watch
over” his land in another village, even when this entails consider-
able inconvenience. This has a supernatural justification: “We
wish to use all the land, to till it everywhere. The nanarangs used
all their allotments and we follow them.”
3. Nyakyusa Land Tenure
The Nyakyusa, a Bantu tribe of southern Tanganyika, are
divided into about a hundred small but traditionally independent
chiefdoms. The many streams running from the north into Lake
Nyasa and the crests of the ridges between them form natural
boundaries between the chiefdoms. On the lower ground to the
south, the land is more fertile than on the higher ground to the
north, parts of which are stony and mountainous, though there
are many old volcanic craters which are filled with rich soil and
which are greatly valued by the Nyakyusa.
Uses of Nyakyusa land . — The Nyakyusa use their land for build-
ing on, for agriculture, for pasture, for hunting and fishing; they
collect firewood, reeds, thatching-grass, mushrooms and other
wild vegetables there; they draw water from its streams and bathe
daily in them; on their land they grow bamboos, bananas,
syunguti trees and coffee; they keep bees; they dance, they fight,
they walk and lie down upon it; their land is both the receptacle
of refuse and the location of religious ritual, while their doctors
continually wander over its surface in search of magical medicines.
Not all these uses of land give rise to laws, moral rules or con-
ventions, but only those uses which tend to lead men into conflict
with one another or into mutual embarrassment. The only
reasons for the existence of rules of land tenure are firstly to
prevent, as far as possible, such conflicts and embarrassments
from arising, and secondly, to facilitate their resolution when
NY AK YUS A LAND TENURE
301
aroused. If, then, there is no danger of conflict or embarrassment,
neither is there a need for any rule at all.
Scarcity of land is a matter of quality rather than quantity,
though in the future the Nyakyusa may be afflicted by land
shortage as a result of the development of export crops. At the
moment it is the best land which is scarce, not land as such.
The Nyakyusa practise intensive cultivation with rotation of
crops. The success of this method is due partly to the variety of
their crops and partly to their extensive knowledge of the uses
and potentialities of different varieties of soil, both for agriculture
and pasturage. Thus, although the cattle are herded during the
daytime by small boys, a man always goes out with them in the
morning to show them where the cattle may best be pastured.
Though the value of land is primarily determined by utilitarian
considerations, sentiment also plays a part. Other things being
equal, a man prefers to make his gardens where he or his father
and brothers have done so before, and to build his house on a site
which has family associations. Religious beliefs also play a part.
One man who did not move to his father’s site on the latter’s death
subsequently suffered a failure of his millet crop. This was
attributed by a diviner to the anger of the father’s spirit because
no one had “swept his grave”. The man did not actually move,
for he preferred his own site, but he performed a ritual sacrifice to
propitiate his father’s spirit. In such cases a man will often move
to his dead father’s site for fear of further misfortune.
Land tenure and social organization . — The system of land tenure of
the Nyakyusa is intimately bound up with their local and political
organization. They are predominantly patrilineal. Inheritance
is in the male line, but goes to brothers before sons. Inherited
wealth is thus in the hands of the older men, though these have
obligations towards their sons, both real and classificatory. For
example, a man must provide lobola cattle both for his own sons
and for the sons of any man from whom he has inherited. In
return the son must hoe his father’s fields and maintain a respect-
ful bearing towards him. In cultivation, hoeing is done by men,
and planting, weeding and reaping by women. Polygyny is the
rule rather than the exception among middle-aged men, each
wife having her own garden plot. Polygyny is an economic ad-
vantage — the more wives and children a man has, the more
wealth can he produce.
Boys leave their father’s village at the age of about eleven, and
LAND TENURE
302
build together a new village nearby on ground allocated to them
by the parent village. It is not regarded as decent for a boy to
sleep at home as he approaches puberty. Between the age of
about eleven and marriage (which takes place in the late twen-
ties) the youth lives with his bachelor friends in the new village.
At marriage he brings his wife to live with him. As the members
of a village grow older, younger boys begin to be refused ad-
mittance, and are forced to start a new settlement of their own.
Each village is thus in origin an age-group, but its population
may be augmented by men (and their families) who arc not
exact contemporaries, by the sons of dead villagers, and by
strangers, who are never refused admittance on the ground of age.
Villages on an average number from forty to fifty households.
The plan of a typical village is given in Fig. 19.
Every generation each chiefdom is divided into halves. This is
based on the Nyakyusa practice of chiefs having two “great
wives”. When a chief begins to grow old, the sons of his respective
great wives are ceremonially “brought out” and recognized as
chiefs, though they do not assume full powers until their father’s
death. Traditionally they assumed authority over the “young”
NYAKYUSA LAND TENURE
303
villages in their half of the chiefdom as soon as they were “brought
out”. Sometimes, however, two such chiefs would fight, and one
would become subordinate to the other, most of the subordinate
chief’s subjects going over to the more powerful and wealthy
chief who could afford to give more feasts to his warriors. A
subordinate chief might thus end his days in authority over one
village only, composed of the remnants of the original four to
eight. In such cases only one son would succeed.
Each village has a headman, 1 selected for his wealth and ability
by the older headmen of the chiefdom. In the boys’ villages they
are selected by the headmen on their side of the chiefdom, and
if they prove satisfactory, their appointment is confirmed at the
“coming out”. If not, another candidate is selected. From this
stage onwards they hold office for life.
At the “coming out” the young headmen are ritually treated
with medicines to give them the power of witchcraft which they
are expected to use in the interests of morality, while the young
chiefs are treated with medicines to make them fierce and im-
pressive themselves, and to ensure the fertility of their land and
the prosperity of the people under them.
It should be noted that the above system has been changed
under European influence. The Administration does not re-
cognize the authority of an heir until after his father’s death, and
only one chief is officially recognized, his co-heir being sub-
ordinate to him. In Christian villages elders and deacons take the
place of headmen.
Land rights within the “homestead ” . — The land in and near the
homestead, which may consist of the houses of several wives, may
be classified as:
1. The house site itself.
2. The adjoining portion of the open space.
3. Adjoining banana groves.
4. Garden plots allocated to wives by husbands.
5. Busongo plots and banana trees (optional).
A plan of the first three of these is shown in Fig. 20 and the
division of a typical bean garden in Fig. 21.
The garden plots are hoed by groups of male villagers, and each
wife plants, weeds and reaps her own plots, allocated to her by
1 This more common word has been substituted for the term “Great Commoner**
used by Wilson.
3 o4 LAND TENURE
her husband. Rights to garden produce vary according to the
nature of the crop. Millet and rice belong exclusively to the
husband. In the case of other crops, the woman is the effective
owner, subject to specific obligations. She must feed her child-
ren and her husband from time to time. She must also pre-
pare meals for his guests and provide him with cooked food to
present as gifts. She normally does these things willingly in order
to retain his affection and in return for his obligations towards her
— he builds her house, hoes her garden, and provides her with a
share of the household milk. But if this system of co-operation
breaks down, there are sanctions which operate. A quarrel may
develop and he may strike her, or she may refuse conjugal rights.
In such cases the injured party may appeal to neighbours for
support. The neighbours censure one or the other, or try to make
it up between them. If this fails, one party may claim compensa-
tion in court. Or it may happen that, without any quarrel or
formal appeal to neighbours, one party becomes aware that his
or her conduct is provoking mockery or criticism, and mends his
or her ways. Or if one or other falls ill, he or she may attribute
this misfortune to spiritual retribution in the form of witchcraft.
NYAKYUSA LAND TENURE 305
Subject to the obligations mentioned above, a woman may use
her own crops to entertain friends, and to make gifts to her rela-
tions, without consulting her husband. Co-wives may entertain
one another, but there are no obligations between them. If a
woman’s crop fails, her co-wives may refuse to assist her, though
they usually do so out of charity, pity for her children, or in
deference to the husband’s wishes.
Each wife weeds and sweeps the portion of the open space
adjoining her house, though her husband may assist her. Pride is
Fig. 21. — A typical bean garden among the Nyakyusa
an important motive in this activity. She must keep her banana
trees free of weeds, and the bunches of fruit are her own property
— not even her husband may cut them without consulting her.
The husband in a polygynous homestead must make a fair
division of land and banana trees between his wives. He always
has a favourite wife, but he must not show favouritism towards
her. If he does, the injured wife or wives may spread whispering
complaints among the people, and this may bring witches to kill
him or the favoured wife. Or the offended wife may sulk and re-
fuse to plant. Or she may appeal to her own family, who will
accept her back if they are convinced that she has been ill-treated.
LAND TENURE
306
The disposal of surplus crops differs according to whether a
husband has reserved busongo plots and banana trees for himself.
If he has, all his wives co-operate in planting, weeding and reap-
ing such plots, but the crops are entirely his own. Conversely,
each woman has an absolute right to dispose of all the surplus of
her own plots — her husband cannot touch them at all. But if the
husband has reserved no busongo plots for himself, the surplus of
each wife’s plot is owned jointly with him. Neither can dispose of
it in large quantities without consulting the other; neither can be
denied the right to dispose of it for any urgent need. The same
principles apply to the disposal of surplus crops for cash.
The most important reason for the busongo system is the lack of
affection and generosity of women towards their married step-
children . 1 If the married children of a dead wife come to visit
their father, they frequently receive scanty entertainment and go
away empty-handed. To guard against this, some men reserve
busongo plots from the crops of which they can draw without
argument. In addition, busongo plots are useful to meet the
demands of the chief and to secure the household against a
shortage of food.
The obligations of sons in regard to hoeing vary from one
household to another. Sometimes sons hoe the plots of their own
mothers only, sometimes father and sons work as a team hoeing
the plots of each wife in turn. Provision of meals follows the same
pattern as the hoeing. The custom of hoeing may be determined
by lack of friendliness between the women, by the slackness of the
husband, or by inadequate provision of food by co-wives. Under
the system of separate hoeing, a woman who has no sons may be
forced to call in people from outside the homestead, rewarding
them for their services by the provision of food.
When a man dies, his widows pass to his heir, with the excep-
tion of the heir’s own mother, who may be given to a half-brother.
Or the heir may build for her at a little distance and look after
her. In such cases she is treated, in matters of land tenure, as a
wife. A man often supports an old woman — mother, mother-in-
law or elder sister — whose husband is still alive, but is unable to
hoe for her, and who has no unmarried sons. He may either hoe for
her on her husband’s land or assign her a plot or two of his own.
1 It should be noted that unmarried motherless children, who from the age of six or
so are economically useful, do not present the same problem as married ones. They
are allotted to one of the other wives, and this is facilitated by the practice of a man
marrying two sisters.
NYAKYUSA LAND TENURE
307
The gardens of a household are not only worked by its members.
Both husband and wife invite neighbours to help them with their
respective tasks, rewarding them with food and, in the case of
men, with beer.
When a man inherits his dead father’s wealth, he assumes the
position of father towards his younger unmarried brothers — he is
responsible for their marriages, and they hoe for him just as do
unmarried sons. Young married men are expected occasionally
to help their wives’ fathers, particularly if they are behindhand
with lobola payments. When the work is finished, they are enter-
tained as sumptuously as neighbours. The son of a poor man will
often attach himself to the household of a rich kinsman — for
example, a brother of his father or mother — and hoe regularly for
him. The kinsman thus acquires an obligation to help with his
lobola .
The above account of the land rights of the household must be
supplemented by reference to the rights of the village and of the
chief, for Nyakyusa land tenure consists of an interlocking of these
rights. The rights and obligations of land tenure are essentially
personal in character, for among small and isolated communities
such as those of the Nyakyusa there are few or no impersonal
relationships.
As stated above, the boys of each village set up a new village on
land assigned to them by the parent village, the allocation being
made by the headman in consultation with other villagers. At
first building sites only are allocated, but as the youths grow up
and marry, these are supplemented by garden land. The bound-
aries of the village are confirmed at its “coming out”, which
coincides with that of its future chief.
Individual land rights in relation to the village and the chief. — In-
dividual land rights in relation to those of the village are best seen
in cases in which a man moves from one village to another. Such
moves are fairly frequent, owing to the magico-religious beliefs of
the Nyakyusa. Sickness or other misfortunes in a household are
frequently attributed to the witchcraft of neighbours. This witch-
craft cannot operate at a distance. Traditionally, the victim might
have the witch identified and expelled from the chiefdom. Nowa-
days, his only course of action is to move, either to another village
within the chiefdom, or to another chiefdom. It is estimated that
80 per cent, of pagan Nyakyusa have at some time moved away
from the villages in which they first cultivated gardens. The man
LAND TENURE
308
who moves may stay away only a few weeks, a matter of months or
years, or permanently. Usually his neighbours go after him,
perhaps several times, and try to persuade him to return — this is
an expression of friendship designed to allay his suspicions and to
clear them of the slur of witchcraft. A man can always return to
his original village even if he has not been invited, unless he him-
self has been expelled for witchcraft or some other offence. The
majority of people who move do eventually return, particularly
if they suffer ill-health or misfortune in their new village, or are
slighted by the villagers.
A stranger moving to a new village is normally granted land by
the headman of the village, not by the chief, who is informed but
seldom interferes. It may be said that “the chief gave him the
land”, but this is merely a figure of speech, a polite recognition of
the chief’s overlordship. In practice the headman grants land on
his behalf, but also acting for the villagers. It is incorrect for the
chief to grant land directly, except in very unusual circumstances.
Thus, only a member of the chief’s own family or a very im-
portant stranger may approach the chief directly, and the chief
may then exercise his right of overlordship. In other cases he is
restrained from making improper grants of land, not only by
public opinion, but also by fear lest the headmen and villagers
may bewitch him. All this illustrates the danger of relying too
much on verbal statements of custom in regard to land tenure.
Strangers are normally welcomed because men are scarcer than
land and a new member helps to bring prestige and prosperity to
a village. The precision with which a new-comer’s land is de-
marcated depends upon the value and scarcity of the land
concerned.
The position is different in the case of a man returning to his
original village. He has a claim to enter again into possession of
his old building site and gardens, but this claim is not absolute —
it depends on his relationship to the villagers and to the chief.
Thus, if he has been expelled for witchcraft, he has no claim. If
he returns before his house has fallen into disrepair, or a new
house has been built on the site, the person to whom the site has
been temporarily allocated will be evicted. Such persons should
be told, when the site is allocated to them, that their tenure is
conditional upon the original owner remaining away. But some-
times this is not done — the villagers may be indifferent to his
return or he may have been away so long, and may have refused
NYAKYUSA LAND TENURE
309
so many invitations to return, that they have come to regard his
absence as permanent. If the new-comer has thus been given the
site unconditionally, and if he has built his own house upon it,
the villagers cannot evict him. The original owner may appeal to
the chief as overlord, and the latter may or may not evict the new-
comer. In the latter case the original owner will have to build
elsewhere, and in any case he may prefer to do this rather than to
dispute the matter. The same principles apply to garden land with
the following de facto reservations: (i) a man will only seek the
eviction of the new-comer in the case of scarce or valuable land;
(ii) it is easier to get back old gardens than old building sites,
since it involves less hardship for the evicted man; (iii) a man may
claim the garden sites of his father, even if he has never hoed them
himself. But the last type of claim is more difficult to establish —
it may be refused or the land maybe divided between the claimant
and the present possessors.
Three features of the customs governing the return of people
to their own chiefdoms are : (i) that the chief may take the initia-
tive in inviting a man to return, (ii) that he may widen the invita-
tion to include all villages of his chiefdom, and (iii) that a man
may live in one village and cultivate gardens in another. Thus,
one man so invited by the chief refused to return to live in the
village where he had suffered misfortune. He continued to culti-
vate his gardens there, but took up residence in a neighbouring
village.
When a man moves from his village, his land rights pass
temporarily to the headman and his fellow-villagers. But an
exceptionally valuable plot of land may be claimed immediately
on his departure by his nearest kinsman — it is not clear whether
the latter can subsequently be evicted as described above. A
man who moves may reap his standing crops when they ripen,
but his building site and bananas revert to the village immedi-
ately. Neighbours care for the banana trees and eat the fruit
until the site is reallocated — the man may ask for bananas from
them if there are none at his new home, but he receives them as a
favour and not as a right — his request may be refused if he is un-
popular and the villagers do not wish him to return.
When a man dies, his heir takes his wives, his cattle and his
movable property and, if he comes to live in the dead man’s
village, his land also. But if he remains in his own village, he has
no rights over the dead man’s land.
LAND TENURE
310
Pasture-land . — In the case of pasture-land adjoining a village,
all villagers have a right to graze their cattle on it. The headman,
in consultation with his neighbours, may also grant grazing rights
to outsiders. Members of the village taking up new garden land
must be careful not to encroach unduly on the village pastures.
Ownership of indigenous trees . — Indigenous trees, other than
bananas, are of two kinds — bamboos, and fruit trees known as
syunguti . There are also trees, of which coffee is the principal one,
introduced by Europeans. Ownership of indigenous trees is
complicated by the fact that different groups of Nyakyusa have
two different systems of rights.
Under the one system, ownership resembles that connected
with exceptionally valuable garden plots. When a man moves,
rights to the use of his trees do not revert to the villagers, but are
taken up by his nearest kinsman in the chiefdom concerned. If
the man’s building site is given over to a new-comer, this man has
no right to use the trees unless given permission by the kinsman.
In the case of syunguti trees the kinsman often does not bother to
exercise his rights, and in this case they are treated in the same
way as banana trees. Bamboos are men’s property and only a
man can claim them, but syunguti trees may be claimed by a kins-
woman. If a man moves without leaving kinsfolk near at hand,
the chief, as supreme overlord, has a right to the trees, and if they
are near to the chief’s home the right is exercised. If a new-comer
moves to the site, he goes and asks the chief for some trees and
the chief usually divides the syunguti trees between himself and the
new resident. But bamboos, the more valuable of the two types,
he usually keeps for himself. If the trees are at some distance from
the chief’s residence, he normally does not claim the syunguti
trees, but only the bamboos, leaving the former to be used by the
villagers meantime and subsequently handed over to a new-
comer. Even bamboos may sometimes be ceded by a “good
chief” in this way.
Under the other system syunguti trees are treated like bananas.
When a man moves they revert, not to a kinsman, but to the
village, subject to the rule that the chief may claim them if he so
desires. Bamboos, however, pass to the nearest kinsman. It is
uncertain whether here also the chief has an option.
Trees introduced by Europeans . — It has been ruled by the Federa-
tion of Chiefs that coffee trees, and other introduced trees, are the
property of the planter, even if he has moved to another chiefdom.
NVAKYUSA LAND TENURE
3ii
But this has required modification in the case of coffee, since these
trees require constant care if they are to remain free from pests
and bear fruit. So the man who tends the trees has an admitted
claim to the crop unless he is paid by the planter for his labour.
However, the planter, on surrendering the trees to him, may com-
pel him to pay something for their initial value. Sometimes the
Agricultural Department takes over the trees and cares for them by
paid labour. Profits from subsequent sales go to the native treasury.
Chiefs and commoners . — The interlocking rights and obligations
of chiefs and commoners in regard to land form part of a wider
system of reciprocity. When a new-comer arrives in a village, the
chief is not only nominally a party to the granting of land to him,
but also in most cases extends a ceremonial welcome to someone
who comes from outside his chiefdom by sending him a present
of cooked food. He has gained a new subject and his power and
prestige are thereby increased. The chief has certain traditionally
defined rights. Commoners must provide cooked food for cere-
monies in the chief’s own immediate family, such as the marriage
of his daughter. The right is not so much legal as reciprocal and
conventional — the chief is expected in return to kill one or two
beasts, and if he is mean in this regard, commoners will be re-
luctant to bring food in future. The commoners are constrained
to carry out their obligations by the public opinion of their fellow-
villagers. Failure to meet their obligations towards the chief
occasions adverse comment in the village. The chief has a tradi-
tional right to demand food, particularly milk and bananas, from
his subjects . 1 This right is not nowadays recognized by the Ad-
ministration, on the ground that the chief receives a salary of
about 105. per month, though this is not commensurate with the
rights which he originally exercised. These rights, however, are
still very largely observed in practice.
The chief had a traditional right to evict any subject if he
desired the man’s site for his own use, but he was obliged to
provide alternative accommodation. This right is now abrogated,
but a chief may still take any unoccupied site for himself or for a
kinsman. It is only if he gives the site to an ordinary commoner
than his action will be criticized. Land allotted by the chief is
associated with a greater security of tenure, for even if the tenant
moves away, the land may not be reallocated by the headman
without his permission or that of the chief.
1 Gf. what has been said above about busongo bananas.
312
LAND TENURE
4. The Scientific Study of Land Tenure
From our review of two primitive systems ofland tenure we may
now abstract certain general principles of interpretation. The first
of these is that legally enforced rules of land tenure emerge and
become significant only when there is competition for land and its
resources. The function of such rules is to regulate the differential
claims of individuals who are, actually or potentially, in com-
petition with each other. Where land is valueless or its resources
abundant, there is no need for the legal definition of conflicting
claims to the land itself. But the distribution of resources won from
it is nevertheless the subject of customary rules, as in the case of
forest land in Wogeo. Similarly, even waste land, streams and
geographical features which are not economically significant may
nevertheless be important in the total scheme of land tenure
because of their sentimental or magico-religious associations.
The second principle which emerges is the importance of the
preliminary definition of land tenure in terms of verbally formu-
lated claims to specific areas of territory. This is particularly
important in field-work. It is the point at which modern ethno-
graphers begin and where the older ones left off. One can obtain
from informants verbal statements such as “this land is my
brother’s”, “this plot belongs to my extended family”, “this field
belongs to my wife’s clan”, or “all land belongs to the chief”. All
such formulations are partial statements of the truth, each by
itself is misleading. Thus we have seen how among the Nyakyusa
the titular ownership of land by the chief is an important
factor, particularly in regard to trees and traditional claims to
tribute; but we have also seen to what extent this titular
ownership is modified by the claims of other individuals in the
community.
This brings us to our third principle of interpretation, namely,
the economic rights and obligations in regard to the use of land
and its resources. In our own society a man may own a piece of
land and leave it unused. In primitive society the ownership of
land is always conditioned by actual use, and some claims are
exercised by virtue of productive effort expended upon it. This
is often done collectively, and the claims to the products of econ-
omic effort are exercised by several individuals, and are defined
by the kinship relationships existing between them, and by their
sex, rank and age.
THE SCIENTIFIC STUDY OF LAND TENURE 313
The fourth and most important principle in the study of land
tenure is the integration of verbally defined rights and economic
claims with the whole cultural framework, so far <is this is con-
cerned with the regulation of the relationship between man and his
land. As we have seen, the verbal statements of legal rights by
themselves may be mutually contradictory and misleading. Like-
wise, a mere inventory of natural resources and a bald statement
of how these are divided among members of the community refers
only to the material aspect of land tenure, and gives no idea of
the basic cultural doctrines which govern its operation. The
principles of kinship and family organization, the traditional
recognition of the prerogatives of rank, and magico-religious
beliefs defining man’s relation to his land must be recognized as
the dynamic forces giving validity to legal claims and customary
principles of economic exchange and distribution. It must be
emphasized that the nature and method of operation of such
cultural doctrines vary from one system of land tenure to
another. Thus, the permanent occupation of land by specific
groups in Wogeo is sanctioned partly by mythology and its
visible embodiment in the nanarang stones. Such a doctrine does
not operate, and indeed could not operate, in the more mobile
community of the Nyakyusa. But even here it should be noted that
it is an activity within the magico-religious sphere — namely, witch-
craft — which determines the mobility itself. The relevance of this
to the system of land tenure will be seen if we consider what might
be expected to happen if the belief in witchcraft should decay.
Under these circumstances we would expect less migration and
the principle of more or less permanent residence would increase
in importance compared with the distributive powers of the head-
men, which would necessarily be exercised to a lesser extent.
The scientific approach to the problems of primitive land tenure
outlined in this section is more than a heuristic device for the
theorist and a useful recipe for the practical man who desires to
achieve an enlightened understanding of native land tenure as a
means to progressive native development. It gives us an apprecia-
tion of what land means to the native in terms, not only of law
and economics, but also of the subtle and intangible values resting
upon the experiences of everyday life, on sentimental attachment
and on magico-religious belief. For the native, his land is not
merely that which provides his livelihood and the environment
in which he is bom, grows up, loves, hates and dies. It is culturally
LAND TENURE
3*4
evaluated in terms of mythology and tribal history, it is the place
where generations of men and women have preceded him and
where others will follow him after his own individual death, a
conception summarized in the Maori proverb: “Man perishes,
but the land remains”.
5. The Fiction of Primitive Communism
In dealing with various phases of primitive economic life, we
have on several occasions pointed out the misleading implications
of the term “primitive communism”. These implications have led
to more muddle-headed thinking in relation to land tenure than
in any other field.
Most primitive communities — even those with a relatively
complex political and economic organization — have at some
time or other been described as “communistic”; the existence of
individual ownership has been denied; or it has been said that
land is owned “communally” or, what amounts to the same
thing, “by the tribe” or “by the clan”. Such statements contribute
nothing to ethnographic knowledge — on the contrary, they tend
to prevent the detailed study of recondite problems of primitive
economics and law which modern field-work has shown to be
necessary. They obscure the complicated network of definitely
individual rights and obligations which arise from membership
of family, household, clan and tribe, and from participation in the
activities of social institutions, particularly those connected with
the production, exchange and consumption of food and material
wealth.
The complex ramifications of such systems of rights and
obligations give the superficial observer some ground for speaking
of natives as living “communistically”. This affirmation crops up
over and over again in quasi-anthropological works. It sounds
impressive, even though it is in fact a confession of ignorance.
Furthermore, it accords well with certain European values, oddly
enough of a contrasting kind. From the point of view of European
economic interests, the statement that the native has a com-
munistic attitude towards land interprets his motives and aspira-
tions in a way quite alien to European thought. It puts the
occupation of native lands by Europeans in a category different
from downright trespass, which it would be if land were owned
“individually”. At the other extreme, kindly and well-meaning
people are all too ready to contrast “primitive communism” with
THE FICTION OF PRIMITIVE COMMUNISM 315
the manifestations of greed and acquisitiveness found in civilized
society, and even to find in it a paradigm of the Christian life.
The dogma of primitive communism, however, is not merely a
popular fallacy. It was accepted by many of the earlier ethno-
graphers and theoretical anthropologists. Thus Rivers speaks of
“the great extent to which communistic sentiments concerning
property dominate the people of Melanesia”. Of Bantu com-
munities, very different from those of Melanesia, we find such
statements as that all such things as “food, beer, private earnings,
blacksmithing, and matrimony” are more or less tribalized, or
that the distribution of food is the highest expression of “com-
munism”.
A special formulation of the doctrine of primitive communism
is found in the developments arising from the work of Lewis
Morgan, which was taken over by Engels as an appendage to the
Marxist theory of social history . 1 It is theoretically more refined
than the other interpretations, and refers primitive communism
back to a primordial, nascent state of human society which,
together with “primitive promiscuity”, gave way, as a result of
development of technology and the socio-economic organization
of production, to the forms of society which we know, neatly
arranged into “stages” of savagery, barbarism and civilization.
The lower stages are said to reveal “survivals” of primitive
communism and sexual promiscuity. Like all existing theories of
social evolution, apart from those which are backed by solid
archaeological evidence, this view rests on a selection of some
facts to the neglect of others in order to support a preconceived
theory. Whenever individuals in primitive society share their
property or their womenfolk, this is a “survival” of primitive
communism and promiscuity. When they display qualities of
greed, acquisitiveness and jealousy, this is due to later develop-
ments in socio-economic history. But it would be equally plausible
to formulate a theory of “primitive individualism” and regard all
individualistic behaviour of natives as a survival of this, the
“communistic” features being dismissed as the result of a growing
control by society over the behaviour of individuals. In fact, if the
researches of Zuckerman on primate behaviour be regarded as
relevant, the latter theory would seem to offer a more plausible
picture of the transition from anthropoid to human existence.
But both interpretations are worthless. They contribute nothing
1 Engels, The Origin of the Family, Private Property and State .
LAND TENURE
316
to the empirical study of contemporary primitive societies or of
the impact of European civilization upon such societies in the
culture contact situation.
The protagonists of the theory of primitive communism are not,
however, concerned with such scientific pursuits. The theory,
like primitive myths and the Aryan dogma of the Nazi regime,
serves the function of justifying a particular set of social values and
specific lines of conduct in social life. This is why Morgan has
been hailed in the U.S.S.R. as an anthropological hero — inci-
dentally doing his memory a disservice by stressing his valueless
evolutionary theories to the neglect of the pioneering work which
he did in the empirical study of kinship and social organization . 1
And it may be remarked that the whole paraphernalia of propa-
ganda and pseudo-science involved in this seems quite unneces-
sary. Arguments about remote evolutionary origins among small,
isolated societies at a low level of technological development
have no bearing on the social, economic and political problems
of masses of human beings in the complex, largely industrialized
world of today. Whether Neanderthal Man did or did not become
annoyed when his neighbour appropriated his hand axe or his
wife seems to have no possible bearing on whether the U.S.S.R.
is an instalment on the Millennium or a Hell of totalitarian
despotism.
The term “communism” refers primarily to developments in
modern civilized society. It is variously used to refer to an abstract
social philosophy or to conditions actually realized in the U.S.S.R.
And it carries different implications for different individuals. The
emphasis may be on:
(a) Equality in social status.
(1 b ) The organization of production by social planning in
contradistinction to individual enterprise.
(c) The ownership of the means of production by the com-
munity.
( d ) Equality, or relative equality, in the standards of living of
different individuals.
(e) The obligation to work, and the conception of productive
effort as constituting the only valid claim to a share of the
common income.
(/) The way in which political authority is organized and
exercised.
1 Cf. Lowie (a), pp. 54 and 66; Firth (10) p. 362.
THE FICTION OF PRIMITIVE COMMUNISM 317
Theoretically one or more of these might exist independently in a
given society, or they might all co-exist.
The above implications refer to the socio-economic organiza-
tion of a society. But the use of the term “communism” is apt to
let in, by the back door, a number of assumptions concerning
individual psychology. Granted that individuals living in primi-
tive societies do in fact upon occasion forgo material advantages,
the motives lying behind such conduct demand investigation and
precise description. We have seen that among them there loom
large the anticipation of reciprocal advantages in the future; fear
of unpleasant consequences from supernatural causes ; desire for
social prestige and conversely the fear of public disapproval, con-
tempt or ridicule, which lead to the honouring of social obliga-
tions, particularly those of kinship. Only in the case of near kin,
bond-friends, and others towards whom the individual has a
sentimental attachment, is the fulfilment of such obligations
backed by genuine altruism. Yet the use of the term “commun-
ism” is apt to imply, albeit vaguely, quite different motives — the
operation of a mystical “group sentiment”, an indifference to
material rewards or advantages, or a diffuse benevolence towards
humanity at large.
From the above we see that no two individuals mean precisely
the same thing when they speak of “communism”. Furthermore,
those who use the term are generally thinking in emotional terms
when they do so. So that when different people speak of “primi-
tive communism” they mean different things about primitive
society, and what they do mean often carries a heavy “emotional
freight”, implying that primitive economic organization is either
a Good Thing or a Bad Thing. As we shall see in Appendix C,
there are an almost infinite number of interpretations which may
be put upon the term. The only thing which they have in common
is that they obscure the complex nature of socio-economic rela-
tions in primitive society.
6*. Bibliographical Commentary
The best study of land tenure from the point of view of theory
and method is contained in Malinowski (5), Vol. I, Chapters XI
and XII, but the theoretical arguments involved may be found
somewhat difficult to follow. The reading of this work is therefore
better deferred until the student has studied several other modern
ethnographic accounts of land tenure, such as those contained in
LAND TENURE
318
Brown and Hutt (1), Fei (1), Firth (8), Forde (2), Mair (1, 2 and
3), Nadel (6) and Richards (4). The chapters on land tenure in
Herskovits (3) should also be consulted.
The material on land tenure in Wogeo and among the Nyak-
yusa presented in this chapter has been abstracted from the
accounts given in Hogbin (9) and Wilson (2), to which reference
should be made for further details.
CHAPTER IX
PRIMITIVE LAW
/. Law and Custom in Primitive Societies
The study of primitive law, in its widest sense, is perhaps the most
general and difficult task of the social anthropologist. Legal
institutions take on a fundamentally different form in primitive
communities as opposed to modern civilizations; and law cannot
be considered apart from the whole normative system — the body
of moral codes, aesthetic standards, rules of good behaviour and
the like — of which institutionalized methods of legal procedure
are but a part, albeit an extremely important part.
This is perhaps the most important fact to be borne in mind in
considering primitive law. It was for a long time obscured because
ethnographic observations in the field were confined almost en-
tirely to accounts of crime and punishment, and to the procedure
adopted in the settlement of disputes. The approach was that of
the lawyer rather than that of the scientist. The former, who earns
his livelihood in righting the wrongs committed by others, is only
interested in the comparatively few instances of breach, as against
the overwhelming majority of cases of observance. Like his
counterpart in the medical profession, he is only interested when
things go wrong, for this is his function in society. But the anthro-
pologist who sets out to study law in its entirety is not merely
interested in the comparatively few instances in which the law is
broken; he must also consider the vast majority of cases in which
it is kept. He must study all the forces of social conformity,
including those positive inducements which ensure that, generally
speaking, honesty is the best policy. But he must not ignore the
fact that cases of breach do occur, and that, in such instances, legal
mechanisms are brought into play. Law cannot be considered
apart from other forces of social conformity, but its existence as a
specific element in culture must also be recognized.
An approach such as this immediately brings before us an
initial difficulty — the problem of definition. In our own society
law is highly institutionalized. It has its own special personnel —
3*9
PRIMITIVE LAW
320
judges, advocates and police; legal business is transacted in
special places, is subject to highly codified rules, and is correlated
with a specialized terminology. But in many primitive societies
there is nothing corresponding to this elaborate body of legal
institutions, with their complex and highly differentiated organ-
ization. For this reason no purely formal definition of law, as
operative in our own society, is applicable to primitive com-
munities. The definition of primitive law is to be found ultimately
in an empirical description of the way in which primitive com-
munities cope with situations comparable to those which arise in
our own courts of law, a subject to which we shall return at the
end of this chapter.
The scientific study of primitive law and custom — the normative
systems of primitive peoples — is fraught with many difficulties,
which have in the past produced many misleading interpreta-
tions. The first impression was that epitomized in the word
“savage”. Early travellers were shocked, horrified or disgusted
by the ways in which primitive types of behaviour differ from our
own. Thus arose the figment of primitive conditions marked by
anarchy and internecine hostility, by constant war of all against
each other, by dominance of the instinct of self-preservation, “an
insatiable appetite for power leading each individual to pursue
his own aggrandizement at the cost of any loss or suffering to the
rest”.
At the other extreme there was the diametrically opposite view
of the “Golden Age”, of primitive man as an essentially kind, un-
selfish and law-abiding being. This view was strengthened when
early field-workers studied more closely, though by no means
thoroughly, the social life of primitive communities. Their
observations revealed, instead of anarchy and chaos, a well-
ordered social system in which tradition, taboo and the “cake of
custom” laid down certain rules which members of the com-
munity invariably obeyed, or said they did . Hence arose the
artificial conception of the savage “automatically” obeying the
traditional rules of his society, either from his own goodness of
heart, or because of some almost mystical quality of primitive
social behaviour such as “group consciousness” or “communistic
organization”.
The following quotations exemplify various interpretations of
why primitive peoples conform to custom:
“Envy, malice and all uncharitableness usually have for the
LAW AND CUSTOM IN PRIMITIVE SOCIETIES 321
object of their expression some artificial aim, from the pursuit of
which Primitive Man is exempt.” . . . “So long as he is free from
the disturbing influence of civilization, the nomad is by nature a
happy and well-behaved child, full of generous impulses and free
from vice.” 1
“The savage ... is hemmed in on every side by the customs of
his people. He is bound in the chains of immemorial tradition,
not merely in his social relations, but in his religion, his medicine,
in his industry, his art: in short, every aspect of his life. . . . These
features are accepted by him as a matter of course. He never
seeks to break forth.” 2
“Among such people as the Melanesians, there is a group
sentiment which makes unnecessary any definite social machinery
for the exercise of authority in just the same manner as it makes
possible the harmonious working of communal ownership and
ensures the peaceful character of a communistic system of sexual
relations.” 3
“Regulations bearing upon the conduct of life, which Western
culture might be deemed to come within the province of govern-
ment, were controlled automatically by established customs.
Custom indicates appropriate procedure under the various cir-
cumstances which face the individual or the community. Children,
by observing their ciders or by parental instruction, are taught the
correct procedure, and no other mode of action occurs to them in
life. . . . Customs act automatically, and there is no need for
Government control. . . . What constituted right and wrong
conduct had been defined by custom. Custom was obeyed without
thought of opposition, and there was little need of courts of law
with police to hale malefactors to justice. Prohibitions by tapus
were observed out of fear and ingrained obedience.” 4
Both of the contrasting views — of primitive anarchy on the one
hand and of “automatic conformity” on the other — have been
shown by modern field-work to be exaggerations. Primitive
societies are governed by laws and moral rules, but these are by
no means obeyed invariably, and certainly not automatically.
The study of primitive law and custom has thus two aspects : the
1 Elliot Smith, Human History , pp. 189 and 199. Note that these assessments are
associated with Elliot Smith’s discredited theory of the origin of all but the most
rudimentary cultural elements in ancient Egypt.
* Hartland, S., Primitive Law, p. 138.
* Rivers (2), p. 169.
4 “Te Rangi Hiroa” (P. H. Buck), Ethnology of Tongareva, pp. 52-3.
PRIMITIVE LAW
322
forces which induce people to conform in the vast majority of
cases, and the procedure adopted in cases of evasions and breaches
of normative standards.
2. The Variety of Primitive Legal Systems
The manner of dealing with legal problems varies greatly from
one primitive community to another. The most important varia-
tion is between stratified and segmented societies. In the former
the study of law is simplified by the fact that they usually have a
system of legal institutions which bears at least some resemblance
to our own. In the latter there is an almost complete lack of such
institutions. Yet they do not live in a state of anarchy, and we are
driven to enquire how social conformity is ensured in communi-
ties which lack legal institutions.
In segmented societies we find a number of autonomous political
units based on kinship and locality, local clans being the common-
est types. Such units are a law unto themselves in the sense that
they are not subordinate to any higher political authority or legal
agency — they resemble in this respect the sovereign states of the
modern world. Injuries inflicted on a clansman by members of
another clan are resented by all the members of the victim’s clan,
who usually seek compensation or inflict some form of retribution.
The latter procedure is known as clan vengeance, and its actual
operation varies from one community to another. In some it may
develop into a blood feud or vendetta, in others the incident is
closed after vengeance has been exacted by the injured clan.
A much-discussed feature of clan vengeance in primitive society
is the fact that injury inflicted by way of retaliation may be
visited, not upon the offender, but upon some other member or
members of his clan. This doctrine is known as collective respons-
ibility and, though commonest in the case of the clan, sometimes
applies to other social groups also. Thus, voluntary associations
often protect the rights of their members on lines comparable
with clan vengeance, and here too the principle of collective
responsibility may apply, all members of a society being jointly
responsible for the misdeeds of one of its members. Again, in some
communities punishments may be inflicted, not only upon the
offender, but also upon members of his family.
It follows that in communities where the doctrine of collective
responsibility applies, there is a lack of emphasis upon criminal
intent, that is, the legal principle of mens rea . Thus, in a fight
THE VARIETY OF PRIMITIVE LEGAL SYSTEMS 323
which forms part of a clan feud, any clansman, and not merely
the original offender, may be killed or injured, even though he
cannot be regarded as morally responsible for the original
wrong . 1 In a striking incident recorded from the Hupa,
a child was accidentally burned to death by a fire which a
woman had started to heat washing water. Although the
woman was in no way responsible, the life of her son was sought
in recompense.
The principle of retaliation, usually carried out by the clan or
other kinship group, may co-exist with systematic legal procedure
and the existence oflcgal authorities. Sometimes these authorities
do not exact punishment themselves, but merely allow the kins-
men of the injured party to do so.
Where systems of collective retaliation exist, typically in the
form of clan vengeance, it is customary for the group of the wrong-
doer to stand by him, to protect him, and to resist attempts by
the group of the victim to exact vengeance. Such behaviour is
determined by the solidarity of the clan, rather than by abstract
moral principle, as is clearly seen when a series of acts of retalia-
tion develop into a blood feud. On the other hand, the tendency
for the clan to protect its members varies in its operation from one
society to another and within any given society according to the
circumstances of the case. Thus among the Chukchi members of
a kinship group may actually kill an offender in order to avoid
becoming embroiled in a vendetta, but this is unusual. More
commonly the principle of “my clansman right or wrong” deter-
mines behaviour, except where the wrongdoer has frequently
offended before or has otherwise made himself unpopular. In
such cases, as we shall see, his clansmen will often let vengeance
take its course.
We have so far spoken only of injuries inflicted by a member of
one clan upon a member of another. As regards injuries inflicted
upon a fellow-clansman, the procedure again varies, but most
commonly no action is taken. Because of the feeling of clan
solidarity, members of a clan are unwilling to punish a wrongdoer
who is a fellow-clansman, and other clans are not interested in the
1 That this is not really so alien to our own ways of thinking becomes clear when we
reflect that in modem warfare an individual may suffer for acts which were carried
out by his national government, and of which he himself may have disapproved or
been ignorant. The main difference between primitive and civilized society in this
respect is the size of the groups within which collective responsibility operates, these
being very much smaller in primitive society.
PRIMITIVE LAW
324
matter. Even such dire offences as incest and parricide may go
unpunished, in the sense that no steps are taken to inflict punish-
ment or to exact compensation. But this docs not mean that there
are no deterrents against them. On the contrary, they are re-
garded with the utmost horror. They bring abject shame upon
the offender, and are often believed to lead to drastic punish-
ments of a supernatural order. Consequently, in spite of the
general lack of formal “punishment” as we understand the term,
wrongful acts against fellow-clansmen are far less common than
against outsiders.
In considering conformity to, and breach of, law and custom in
primitive society, it is useful to distinguish between those wrongs
which may or may not provoke retaliation by an injured party,
and those which provoke a public reaction by society at large.
These are roughly equivalent to “torts” and “crimes” respectively
in our own legal system. But the offences which belong to the two
categories are different in primitive society. Thus wrongful acts
which provoke a general public reaction are usually confined to
such offences as sacrilege, witchcraft, incest, treason and what
can only be defined as “being a bad lot ”. 1 On the other hand,
certain offences, which in our own society are regarded as crimes,
are in many primitive communities treated more as “civil”
wrongs against a victim or his kinsmen, for example, theft and
murder.
We must, however, avoid carrying over our own legal concepts
into the field of primitive law and custom, where there is little or
no codified law, and where reactions to breach of custom are
conditioned to a very large extent by the social context in which a
wrong is committed, and by the personal character, status and
personality of the wrongdoer, rather than by rigidly defined laws.
The way to understand primitive legal systems is to define what
actually happens, for this is often very different from what the
natives say should happen.
3. The Sanctions of Social Conformity
As we have said, to understand why people conform, it is
necessary to study law as a part of a wider system of principles,
1 As regards the latter, we always find that consistent breaches of tribal custom lead
to some form of public reaction. This may consist merely of an extreme degree of un-
popularity with the consequent social and material disadvantages to be mentioned
presently, or may take the form of violent injury or even death inflicted upon the
habitual offender.
THE SANCTIONS OF SOCIAL CONFORMITY
325
moral rules, traditional lore and customary procedure, involving
both positive and negative sanctions. The working of institutions
provides rewards for conformity which are quite as important as
penalties for breach. We must therefore consider creditable acts
and their rewards (positive sanctions) as well as derelictions from
duty and their punishments (negative sanctions). Since obedience
to custom is not “slavish” or determined by “automatic con-
formity”, the real problem lies in defining all the forces which
induce people to behave traditionally.
Among the positive sanctions which are operative, perhaps the
most important is the pressure of public opinion, which is particu-
larly strong in small and isolated primitive societies, where
everybody knows most of everybody else’s business and privacy
is practically non-existent. Under these circumstances, people are
far more keen to win the approval of society at large than in the
more impersonal atmosphere of modern urban civilization . 1 The
acquisition of a good reputation has both social and material
advantages — it provides satisfaction for personal vanity and en-
hances self-respect, it is often culturally recognized in terms of
political and social status, and usually brings economic advant-
ages. Sometimes there exists a belief that ancestors and other
spiritual beings are pleased by good conduct. Occasionally there
is a belief in rewards after death, but these are never so significant
as they are, for example, in the Christian religion, and their truly
indigenous character is sometimes doubtful. In primitive society
generally the effects of wrongful acts upon an offender during his
lifetime are far more significant than anything which may happen
to him after death.
Among the negative sanctions which make for conformity, we
must again mention public opinion, this time in its negative
effects. Just as people are eager to win a good reputation, so
they are anxious to avoid a bad one. The fear of public con-
demnation or ridicule is extraordinarily powerful in primitive
society, and here again the effects are not only social but also
material. The principle of reciprocity ensures that a man who
consistently fails to honour his obligations will find himself not
only condemned or ostracized, but also at a disadvantage in
material matters. He cannot expect material benefits from those
whom he has treated badly, neither can he expect them to uphold
1 Note in this connection how the force of public opinion varies, under modern
conditions, between urban and rural communities.
PRIMITIVE LAW
326
his rights or to support him in quarrels. One of the most effective
social sanctions of all is the condoning of reprisals by injured
parties — what might be termed the “serve him right” sanction.
The force of the negative sanctions provided by public opinion
is most clearly seen in those primitive communities where a man
who has violated some important custom actually goes into
voluntary exile or commits suicide because he cannot bear the
shame of public humiliation.
Among the most important forces of conformity in primitive
society are the negative sanctions based upon magico-religious
beliefs. Though we know such beliefs to be unfounded, they are
nevertheless firmly held by the natives, for reasons which we shall
discern in the next chapter. Magico-religious sanctions are
broadly of three kinds, and their occurrence and operation vary
from one society to another : firstly, there are beliefs in the effects
of breach of taboo; secondly, there are beliefs in drastic conse-
quences arising from the anger of ancestors or other supernatural
beings; and finally, there are beliefs in the power of sorcery which
restrain individuals from doing injury to others through fear of
magical retaliation.
Such sanctions as we have described support tribal custom
wherever conformity with custom is irksome, difficult or contrary
to the individual desires of human beings. They reinforce the
manifold obligations connected with kinship. Together with the
other motives in economic activities described in Chapter VII,
they ensure the honouring of co-operative obligations in economic
affairs. They serve to make binding the legal rules of land tenure
reviewed in the last chapter. They ensure respect for individual
life, property and reputation. And they control the sexual be-
haviour of individuals, particularly through the sanctions for the
prohibition of incest and the rules of exogamy.
Our discussion of sanctions leads us to consider them in a much
wider sense than is implied in the term “punishments”, even if we
add to this the category of “rewards”. This becomes clear when
we consider the sanctions of conformity in primitive society in the
light of two popular and humanitarian interpretations of the
function of punishment in our own society, namely, the reforma-
tory and the deterrent theories. According to the former, the func-
tion of punishment is to reform the criminal. This view is clearly
inapplicable to capital punishment, and is inconsistent with the
fact that the less appears to be the likelihood of reforming a
THE SANCTIONS OF SOCIAL CONFORMITY 327
criminal, as in the case of habitual offenders, the more severe is
the punishment in primitive and civilized societies alike. Accord-
ing to the deterrent theory, wrongdoers are punished in order to
deter others from following their example. While this is probably
a valid ethical basis for punishment in our own society, it is in-
applicable to instances where the principle of collective respons-
ibility is operative.
A third view might be called the expiatory or kathartic theory.
According to this view, the commission of a wrongful act shocks
the moral sentiments of society, and creates, in the words of
Professor Radcliffe-Brown, a condition of social dysphoria . There
is therefore a need for some action which will restore the euphoria
of society, and this most commonly takes the form of some
punishment inflicted on the criminal. But it may take other
forms, for example, the payment of compensation or some other
action designed to expiate the offence and mitigate the damage
done to the feelings of an injured group . 1
An important fact stressed by the expiatory theory is the mutual
relationship between moral sentiments on the one hand and overt
acts of punishment on the other. Offences are punished because
they are wrong, but they are also wrong because they are
punished. The public action, even if limited to a verbal or sym-
bolic expression of disapproval, which follows upon a wrongful
act serves to establish moral sentiments in the young and to keep
them alive in those of riper years. It is upon the existence of such
sentiments that much, if not most, social conformity rests. It is
only occasionally that individuals are seriously tempted to flout
the most fundamental rules of society, and it is in these instances
only that the deterrent function of punishment becomes operative.
In connection with the relation of moral sentiments to social
conformity it is important to recognize that this is expressed in
linguistic terms. In all societies we find emotionally significant
terms of praise and blame, proverbs, maxims or other verbal
expressions in which the conduct of individuals is evaluated by
public opinion in terms of currently accepted standards of right
and wrong. These are learned as part of language in early child-
hood, and come to possess a binding force on the conduct of
individuals through psychological mechanisms which will be
discussed in Volume II.
We have outlined some of the ways in which social conformity
1 For an exposition of this view, see Radcliffe-Brown (7).
8.A. 1—23
PRIMITIVE LAW
328
is ensured in primitive society. But we must again emphasize the
differences between various communities in this respect. Just as
each primitive society has a different set of rules from any other,
so it has also different mechanisms by which these rules are made
valid. Primitive law can only be understood by a study of the
legal systems of various primitive societies. In the two following
sections we shall review two such systems in relation to particular
types of wrongful acts, selecting in the first instance a segmented
society — that of Wogeo — because it is in such societies that the
specifically primitive characteristics of law and custom are most
apparent, and the consideration of legal problems presents the
greatest theoretical and practical difficulties.
4. Law and Custom in Wogeo
The way in which the people of Wogeo deal with certain
offences provides a useful insight into the working of law in a
community which does not possess legal institutions. The two
offences to be considered are adultery and theft. These are
particularly suitable for our purpose, because in our own legal
system the former falls within the province of civil law and the
latter within that of criminal law. Yet in Wogeo, as we shall see,
the sanctions connected with them operate in very much the
same way in the two cases.
Adultery . — Adultery is fairly common in Wogeo, but is de-
scribed as wrong by all natives. Some informants will even deny
that it ever occurs in their district. The reason for adultery is, of
course, primarily the desire of the persons concerned for sexual
variety. But there are other factors involved :
(a) Adultery in certain circumstances does not lead to serious
consequences, and it is often possible to carry on an
intrigue without discovery.
( b ) The Wogeo attitude towards pre-marital intercourse lacks
any strong feeling, and it is generally ignored provided
that the couple are not found out. In this case the situation
is embarrassing for them, but no more. This must tend to
produce the impression that in sexual matters a good deal
is permitted provided that it does not become generally
known.
(1 c ) At initiation, boys are solemnly warned against adultery
and told of the punishments meted out to adulterers in the
past. At the same time the instructors seek to glorify their
LAW AND CUSTOM IN WOGEO 329
clan by telling how their ancestors were always successful
in the most flagrant adulteries. This must foster the view
that the condemnation of adultery is a purely official and
conventional attitude, which need not have implications in
actual practice, provided that the adultery is successfully
concealed.
(i d ) Adultery with a woman of another clan is probably to some
extent a reflection of clan rivalry, a permissible means of
scoring off one’s neighbours.
(1 e ) Although young men are constantly told of the punish-
ments which follow adultery — sorcery, public abuse and
physical violence — they observe that many men continue
to offend without producing any unpleasant consequences.
(f) Finally, adultery is attractive because it is forbidden and
slightly dangerous. When a basis of confidence is estab-
lished, informants will boast of their conquests and the
devious means by which they carried them out.
The practice of adultery is, then, founded upon strong passions
of lust and vanity. On the other hand, it almost always produces a
violent emotional reaction on the part of the wronged husband.
This is likely to cause disruption in the community. So clearly
adultery in Wogeo presents a legal problem.
How is this problem solved? The reaction of the community
varies according to whether the adultery has taken place with a
woman of another district, with a woman of another village of the
same district, with the wife of a fellow-clansman , 1 or of a headman.
It also varies according to the personalities and social relations of
the individuals directly or indirectly concerned.
Adultery with a woman of another district . — In view of the rivalry
between districts, this is very lightly regarded, and is only con-
demned because it may lead to trouble. Usually it is the result of
an amorous expedition of men from one district to another. The
men take advantage of the fact that at certain tasks, such as
weeding large gardens, the women are alone. When the men of
the offended district hear the news, they send a challenge to the
offenders. In the old days a fight took place with spears, but was
usually not a serious matter, and ceased as soon as blood had been
drawn. Since the prohibition of fighting by Government, the
challenge is to a football match. From twenty to forty men take
1 Adultery with the wife of a fellow-villager who is not a clansman appears to be
regarded in much the same light as adultery within the clan.
PRIMITIVE LAW
330
the field and the game usually develops into a brawl. Friendly
relations between the districts are afterwards restored, food is
sometimes exchanged, and things return to normal until the next
amorous expedition.
When inter-district adultery is an individual matter, the
wronged husband and his relatives wait for one of the ceremonial
fights which precede large distributions of food and other cere-
monies (Plate VI). They take this opportunity of manhandling
the adulterer.
Adultery between different villages of the same district . — The wronged
husband feels violent anger because his rights have been interfered
with and his pride hurt. His anger is directed primarily against
the adulterer. The woman usually escapes with a beating unless
she has been frequently unfaithful, in which case she may be
divorced. The clan of the husband also feels affronted and assists
him in securing redress. They do this partly because of the
strength of the clan tie and partly because each member may some
day require similar assistance.
On discovering the offence, the husband may beat the slit-gong
in his village and publicly abuse the adulterer. He may repeat
this performance at the latter’s village. He may also perform black
magic against the man who has wronged him. Apart from this,
his redress consists of receiving a present from the adulterer or of
inflicting violence on him at the next ceremonial fight.
The adulterer is embarrassed and ashamed, especially if he is
insulted in public, when he must listen in silence. He feels a fool
for having been found out. He also knows that he will probably
be roughly handled in a few months’ time, but he does not view
this so seriously as he does public humiliation.
The adulterer’s fellow-clansmen are angry with him, since he
has brought shame upon them. Also they may have to subscribe
to the present which he gives to the wronged husband. Their clan
loyalty forces them to help him in this way unless he is an habitual
offender. They would not, however, help him if he took any
action in reprisal for the insults heaped upon him, for they know
that he is in the wrong. But their resentment at these insults
probably adds zest to the subsequent ceremonial fight.
People who are not linked by bonds of clan membership, or
otherwise, with the parties concerned describe the adultery as
wrong, though they do not feel strongly. Their main reaction is
that the adulterer was a fool to let himself be found out.
.£4
LAW AND CUSTOM IN WOGEO 331
While this is the general pattern of reaction, there are variations
which depend on special factors in the situation. For example, an
adulterer’s clansmen will normally support him in the football
match which sometimes follows an act of adultery. One adulterer
who was challenged to such a match was confident that some of his
clansmen, who had just returned from work on a plantation,
would support him. But when the day arrived they went over to
the other side, with the exception of two men. Their reason for
deserting their clansman was that they had heard that he had
been carrying on with their sweethearts while they were away.
Again, if a man is a notorious adulterer, his reputation suffers,
even so far as his own clan is concerned, and public disapproval
is much greater than in ordinary cases. It is said that in the old
days such a man would have been killed. On the other hand, in
one case of adultery the husband had a reputation for being both
jealous and cruel to his wife, and her action was regarded by some
as a justifiable return for the treatment which she had received.
Adultery within the clan . — This is a much more serious matter.
It is generally condemned in the strongest terms. Many natives
insist that it never occurs, though in fact it does, albeit less fre-
quently than other forms of adultery.
The reason for this strong condemnation is that the adulterer
“breaks the clan”. In native thought all the members of a clan are
brothers and owe loyalty to one another. Adultery with the
wife of one of them is inconsistent with this sentiment. Moreover,
it is said that an adulterer always feels ashamed in the presence
of the husband he has wronged, an impossible situation when the
two are near neighbours. Finally, the wives of clansmen are
addressed as “mother”, and men are expected to behave towards
them in somewhat the same way as they do towards their own
mothers. This sentiment again is utterly inconsistent with any
sexual relations between them.
When adultery does take place, however, the injured husband
is expected to refrain from any kind of vengeance, for this again
would “break the clan”. He is expected to pretend that he knows
nothing unless the couple are caught by him in flagrante delicto , in
which case it is understood that he cannot restrain his anger. But
even in other cases he is frequently unable to control himself. He
may relieve his feelings by trying to burn down his house or cause
it to collapse by chopping down a corner post. He is usually
restrained by fellow-villagers. On one occasion, the husband
PRIMITIVE LAW
33 *
beat the slit-gong and indulged in a public harangue, but re-
frained from mentioning any names. He merely talked in general
terms of the unfaithfulness of wives and the untrustworthiness of
brothers.
If a case of adultery within the clan thus becomes a public
scandal, the adulterer usually hands over a present to the husband,
and an influential man may arrange a public reconciliation in
which the two men take a meal together in the presence of the
villagers. But even these measures are often inadequate to restore
harmony between the two, and the adulterer frequently leaves
the village for a while. He may even feel constrained to go away
from the island and work on a plantation for a year or two.
Whether he does this or not depends largely upon the reaction of
the husband. If he remains hostile, the adulterer cannot very well
remain in close association with him. If he is thus forced to go
away for a long time, public antagonism is apt to shift and be
directed against the husband, who by his obstinacy has further
“broken the clan”. Later, however, it is recalled that a husband’s
anger cannot be expected to die in a few minutes, and public
condemnation is once more directed against the adulterer.
Adultery within the clan is strongly condemned, even outside
the village in which it occurs. But no general punitive action is
taken by outsiders, and would be bitterly resented by the clan if
it were.
Adultery with wives of headmen . — This is regarded as particularly
reprehensible, and young men are warned about the serious
consequences which may follow this form of adultery. The adul-
terer may lose his life, and a man was actually killed for this
offence as recently as 1929. Even the adulterer’s own clan will
not attempt to protect him in such circumstances, though they
would not join in inflicting the punishment. Even if the adulterer
escapes death by violence, it is believed that sooner or later the
offended headman will use black magic against him, causing
disease or death. All headmen are regarded as competent
sorcerers, and such employment of magic by the headman is
regarded as entirely justified. The natives are genuinely afraid
of it.
In one case of adultery with the wife of a headman, the offend-
ing couple ran away into the bush. Some of the older men were
with difficulty restrained from murdering the guilty man. A
message was sent around the island asking all villages to refuse
LAW AND CUSTOM IN WOGEO 333
them shelter, and in fact they were ordered to leave one village
in which they had sought refuge with the relatives of the woman.
After a while the woman returned to her husband, who treated
her with indifference and contempt. The adulterer then per-
suaded her to run away again, and they lived in the bush for
awhile. Later they built a hut and made a garden near a village
where they had relatives. They were fed by the villagers until
crops in their garden had ripened, but they took no part in village
life, and no one helped them in their garden. In spite of public
indignation and the fact that the headman said that he would
charge the young couple with adultery when next the District
Officer visited the island, their determination won a certain
amount of sympathy among the younger generation. But if any
evil should overtake them, it will inevitably be attributed to the
black magic of the offended husband.
The headman as adulterer . — There are recorded cases in which
the headman was the adulterer. If the injured man is of lower
rank, he has no redress. But if the headman takes advantage of
his position too often, he loses the respect of his clansmen, and
runs the risk of seducing the wife of a man with sufficient force of
character to organize a punitive expedition.
Finally, there were in the past cases of adultery by a headman
with the wife of another headman. Such offences led to murder,
raiding and warfare. This sometimes developed into a vendetta.
The clan of the adulterous headman would support him, since no
clan likes to lose its headman, and its prestige as a group is bound
up with his.
Theft . — Theft is also condemned as wrong, but nevertheless
occurs. The man who is robbed is annoyed, and his clansmen help
him to gain redress. Strong public indignation is felt only when
the theft has been committed within the village. As with adultery,
there are different kinds of theft, and the reaction of the com-
munity is again variable.
Theft of garden produce . — Petty thieving of garden produce
within the village is rare, since it implies admission that the thief
is lazy and improvident. It is a disgrace to be without food, and
no one who had food would be forced to steal. When such thefts
occur, the man who is robbed may publicly abuse the thief, and
the villagers express contempt. Only those who are indifferent
to their reputation would commit such an offence, though there
is one shameless family which lives entirely on charity and theft.
PRIMITIVE LAW
334
Their fellow-villagers give them food, partly because of the
primitive sense of obligation in such matters, and partly because
they know that they will be robbed if they do not. Such habitual
thieves are not usually abused. What would be the use, since they
are utterly without shame?
A second type of theft of garden produce occurs when the
young men of one village raid the gardens of another and dis-
tribute the food among their relatives. The latter regard the
episode as a good joke, reflecting credit on the pluck and virility
of the boys, though when the compliment is returned they are apt
to be annoyed. But no open dispute results, since “boys will be
boys’ 5 .
Pig-stealing between districts . — The Wogeo natives are attached
to their pigs, not only for economic reasons, but also as pets.
Pig-stealing is regarded as wrong, but no very great indignation
is expressed. The pigs, which are earmarked, often wander away
from the village and may be killed by a man from another
district. If the owners can discover the thief, they demand the
exact equivalent in return. Such demands may lead to arguments
and brawls, since the thieves will plead innocence unless irrefut-
able proof is produced. If they cannot deny the offence, they will
protest that the pig had damaged their taro, or that the theft was
a just reprisal for an earlier theft committed against themselves
by the complainants.
In the case of an open quarrel, the accused man’s clan and
village will support him, since they too feel insulted. They are not
much concerned with the question of guilt or innocence, though
the latter increases their indignation.
Often, however, it is difficult to prove the theft, or even to
detect the thief. No one in the latter’s village will give him away,
and in any case there is always the possibility that the pig may
have died naturally or been bitten by a snake and afterwards
devoured by dogs.
Pig-stealing within the district . — Thefts of pigs between different
villages of the same district usually occur when the animal has
done damage to gardens. A man is justified in killing a pig in such
circumstances, but should notify the owner. In fact, he often
remains silent. Nevertheless, the theft is quite likely to become
known. There is much coming and going between villages, and
the news is often conveyed by one of the married women in the
thief’s village who happens to be related to the injured parties.
LAW AND CUSTOM IN WOGEO 335
If the owners get to know of the theft, they can demand an
equivalent return. If this is not forthcoming, they may carry out
magic to cause the thief’s pigs to wander into other districts and
be killed.
An accusation of theft is often met, as before, by pleas of inno-
cence or extenuating circumstances. But the theft is not always
denied. In fact, a headman may even offer a larger pig as com-
pensation, thus enhancing his reputation for generosity. The
complainant may refuse this, in order to show that he, too, can be
liberal.
It is worth noting that when a dispute arises over the theft of a
pig, the sympathy of persons not directly concerned is deter-
mined by their relationship to the contending parties rather than
by sense of justice.
Pig-stealing within the village . — The natives do not say that theft
of pigs within the village never takes place, as they do with
adultery. But some of them are reluctant to admit that it ever
takes place in their village. The reason for condemnation is that
the rights of relatives and fellow-villagers should be respected.
It is also pointed out that the theft affects, not merely the owner,
but also other villagers who would later have received a share of
the pig when it was killed.
But if a theft occurs, the owner is expected to ignore it so as to
preserve the harmony of the village, which would otherwise be
upset. Though it causes disapproval at the time, the offence is not
held against the guilty man for any length of time, and his reputa-
tion does not suffer greatly. The whole tendency seems to be to
hush the matter up and forget about it.
Theft of pigs within the clan is extremely rare. Quite apart
from moral considerations and fear of public disapproval, it is not
of any great advantage to the thief. When a pig is killed all clans-
men normally receive a share. So as the thief can only consume a
portion of the pig himself, he is merely illegally taking in the
present what he would in any case legitimately receive in the
future.
Theoretical conclusions . — The above description illustrates several
theoretical points in connection with primitive law and custom:
(a) Although Wogeo has no legal institutions, there are social
mechanisms which serve the same function as legal institu-
tions in civilized society. They curb the selfish passions of
lust, vanity and greed by threatening offenders with conse-
336 PRIMITIVE LAW
quences which are emotionally unpleasant — the violent
infliction of physical pain or death, a social situation so
intolerable that the offender is forced to seek relief in
voluntary exile, and the fear of disease or death resulting
from the sorcery of the offended party.
(b) But the dire consequences involved, including real and
imaginary dangers, are backed by other sanctions. In fact,
where no great disruption is involved, these are the only
sanctions which operate. In minor cases, or where the
parties are not relatives or neighbours, the only public
reaction is to regard the offender as being a fool to let him-
self be found out. The sanctions which operate in such cases
include the fear of ridicule or contempt, embarrassment,
the feeling of guilt at having done something which is
regarded as wrong or of having “broken the clan”, and the
alienation of fellow-clansmen so that they do not provide
support when needed.
(c) The sanctions mentioned above are negative ones. But
custom is also supported by positive sanctions, or induce-
ments to good behaviour. There is the desire for the
favourable reputation which results from good conduct, or
perhaps more correctly from a minimum of bad conduct.
This is connected with the wish to stand well with (and
therefore be able to rely on) fellow-clansmen. And,
finally, there is for the individual the pleasure derived from
a feeling of moral righteousness. Thus, one informant
stated that if he refused temptation “his inside felt good”
because he knew he was a worthy man.
(d) What is known as “superstition” supports tribal morality,
by inducing fear of retaliation by magic, which is believed
to be a real threat and is regarded as justifiable retribution.
The special reputation which headmen have as sorcerers
reinforces their authority and leads their rights to be
respected, rights with which their clan feels itself to be
associated.
(e) In spite of the fact that certain acts are generally regarded
as wrong and their very occurrence denied by certain
informants, they do nevertheless occur. There exist cases of
evasion and even open defiance of custom. Furthermore,
although everybody says that certain acts are wrong in the
abstract, they do not, in actual practice, evince signs of
LAW AND CUSTOM IN WOGEO 337
moral indignation unless the crime is a serious one or they
are themselves involved. They may even feel a certain
satisfaction if they have a grudge against the offended
party. These considerations stress the importance of distinguishing
between what natives say they do or feel , and what their actions and
feelings are in reality.
(f) Individuals vary greatly in their reactions to temptation
and to the dictates of custom. Some are completely shame-
less, and where the offences are minor ones, nothing much
can be done about them. But where more serious offences
are habitually committed, or in the case of a single crime
of a particularly heinous character, the offenders may be
killed (this does not apply since the Administration inter-
vened) unless they prefer voluntary exile. Habitual
criminals receive no support from their fellow-clansmen,
who have so often been put in a difficult position by them.
(g) Primitive peoples do not “conform automatically” to the
dictates of custom. They are, in fact, tempted from time to
time, and a man’s behaviour on such occasions is deter-
mined by a balance of motives which are conditioned by
his individual temperament and the particular circum-
stances of the case.
(h) The operation of legal and other sanctions is modified in
each particular case by factors peculiar to it. These include
ties of blood and neighbourhood ; the rank of culprit and
victim; whether there was provocation; whether really
uncontrollable passions were involved ; whether the culprit
was a first offender; whether there were extenuating cir-
cumstances; and the age, prestige and personality of the
parties directly and indirectly involved. It may be noted
that, although some of these circumstances are allowed to
modify the rigid application of our own legal code, primi-
tive law is much more flexible in this regard. It might be
argued that it is more efficient in terms of wider social
considerations. Thus, it seems unjust that a commoner
should have no redress against an adulterous headman.
But this is a recognition of respect for his authority, and
indirectly for the clan which he represents.
(0 The study of primitive law includes the examination of
reasons why the law is obeyed in the vast majority of cases,
and not merely the occasional instances of breach. For
338
PRIMITIVE LAW
example, even in Wo geo, not all of the people are com-
mitting adultery all of the time. Married life goes on, not
unhappily, for husband and wife are bound together by
close ties of affection, day to day co-operation, and common
interests such as children and gardening. While mistrust is
easily aroused, few husbands arc suspicious all the time.
Those who are become objects of ridicule. Some men re-
assure themselves by the belief that though the wives of
other men may be unfaithful, their own wives would be
incapable of such conduct. Others face the fact that their
wives are probably much the same as other women, but
since nothing can be done about it, unless they have direct
proof, they consider complacency preferable to endless
suspicion.
5. Legal Institutions of the Southern Bantu
In contradistinction to the Melanesian community previously
studied, the Bantu stribes of South Africa possess definite legal
institutions. The working of these institutions as they operated in
pre-European times reveals (a) the ways in which they difTcr
from our own; ( b ) the existence of “primitive” conceptions of law
comparable with those of Melanesia, and (c) variations from one
Bantu tribe to another.
The nature of Bantu law . — Bantu law is not codified, either in
writing or in any well-defined body of legal maxims or principles.
Apart from proverbs and similar sayings, the legal rules are
inherent in the social system, a system of rights and obligations
generally recognized as binding. The Bantu speak of the bulk of
their laws as having always existed, or having been created by
God or by the ancestor spirits.
Children are taught by their parents the difference between
right and wrong, and at initiation more formal instruction is
given. The function of the latter is not so much to impart new
information as to impress upon the novice the importance of
social codes which he already knows. In later life any man may
attend the hearing of law-suits, so that the law, being generally
known, requires no codification. Diligent observance of the law
leads to social esteem and material rewards from tribal authority.
Failure to comply means shame or ridicule; the offender may be
denied services akin to those which he has failed to render; or
sickness and misfortune may result from the anger of ancestor
LEGAL INSTITUTIONS OF THE SOUTHERN BANTU 339
spirits or from other supernatural causes. When these sanctions
fail the material power of the tribal courts comes into play. They
may force a man to carry out obligations which he has neglected,
or to make restitution, or to suffer punishment for an offence he
has committed.
The work of the courts consists mainly of enforcing laws upon
the validity of which there is general agreement. Occasionally,
differences of opinion arise and are discussed among the old men;
or they may be referred to a neighbouring chief with a view to
ascertaining whether there is any precedent in the matter. The
legal system of the Bantu thus consists of a body of “case law”,
which is capable of slight modification from one case to another
but not of drastic change. In addition, the chief has the power to
make new decrees, but these must be made with the approval of
the tribe in council.
Civil and criminal law . — The legal code of the Bantu may be
roughly divided into two sections, corresponding to our distinc-
tion between civil and criminal law. But the categories differ
greatly from those of European systems of law. The principal
crimes are offences against the tribal authorities, homicide,
violent assault, sorcery, incest and other “unnatural acts”. In
addition, certain civil injuries are also treated as crimes, the
offender being forced, not only to make restitution, but also to
suffer punishment. Similarly, certain crimes, particularly against
bodily security, may also give rise to civil remedies. In European
law the two aspects of such offences are the subjects of separate
proceedings, but in Bantu law they are tried as a single action,
and it is only in the verdict of the court that the two aspects find
expression. But the distinction is also clear in the way in which
the matter is brought to court. The victim of a civil wrong may
take no action, or may reach a private settlement with the
offender, or may sue him in court. But unless the victim takes the
initiative in this way, no action can be taken by the courts. A
criminal offence, however, cannot be compounded and must be
reported to the chief or other tribal authority, who will then
summon the offender to court. If the punishment is a fine, it is
paid to the court, although, as stated above, the victim may also
be awarded some compensation.
The principal remedies for a civil wrong are restitution and
compensation. The former aims at cancelling the wrongful act
when this is possible — a trespasser may be removed, borrowed or
PRIMITIVE LAW
340
stolen property restored, or an unfulfilled contract carried out.
Compensation is paid usually in livestock, when the wrong cannot
be undone, for example, in cases of seduction, damage to property
or defamation. In many tribes the amount of such compensation
is traditionally standardized for certain kinds of wrong.
Occasionally, the victim may “take the law into his own
hands”, but the tendency of Bantu law is to limit this kind of
“self-help”. It is condoned only in exceptional circumstances,
such as the killing or assaulting of an adulterer, homicide, or thief
caught red-handed.
The most common form of punishment is a fine, also generally
paid in livestock. The amount varies with the seriousness of the
offence, the position of the offender, his previous record and his
ability to pay. It ranges from the fine of a single beast to con-
fiscation of the offender’s entire property. Among certain
tribes corporal punishment is frequently imposed as an alterna-
tive. In one tribe the lex talionis applies — for example, in cases of
assault, particularly between women, the victim k allowed to
inflict an injury similar to that which she has received. In most
tribes certain offences may be punished by bodily mutilation, for
example, the removal of ears or hands. Serious crimes are com-
monly punished by death or banishment, both generally accom-
panied by confiscation of property.
Contracts . — Apart from various aspects of the marriage contract,
the commonest forms of contractual obligation relate to alienation
of property by gift, barter or sale; permissive use of property,
and service. All important contracts must be concluded before
witnesses, the property concerned being produced, or the service
specified, at the time. Breach of contract entitles the victim to
compensation, or to an order by the court that the contract shall
be carried out. Women and children are normally incapable of
entering into contracts without the consent of their guardian,
who may nullify any independent contract they may make, but
may be held liable for breach of a contract which he has ap-
proved. In the case of certain types of contract, for example, sale
or barter, if a man is unable to pay, his near relatives, such as his
father or brothers, may be called upon to do so. A dead man’s
heirs are expected to settle his outstanding debts before taking
over his estate.
A common form of contract, known as ukusisa , is for one man to
place some of his cattle in the care of another. The latter may use
LEGAL INSTITUTIONS OF THE SOUTHERN BANTU 341
the milk of these cattle, but may not sell or slaughter them. He
must tend them as he does his own, is answerable to the owner for
their welfare, and must report any loss or death, in the latter case
producing the skins. If the cattle thrive under his care, the owner
may reward him from time to time by the gift of a heifer, but there
is no legal obligation in regard to remuneration unless it has been
specified in the contract.
In the case of children temporarily entrusted to the care of
persons other than their lawful guardians, a fee, usually one
beast, may be claimed when the children are returned. In a simi-
lar category are the fees payable to professional magicians. For
the “doctoring” of huts, fields or cattle, the fee is payable on the
completion of the rite, but in the case of illness the fee is payable
only if the treatment has been successful. Payment is rarely
refused in the case of successful “doctoring” of a patient, for the
magician might use his art to undo the effects of his treatment or
even bewitch the defaulting clients. But if the fee is not paid within
a reasonable time, the magician can recover it in court.
Marriage is one of the most important legal contracts in Bantu
law. Marriages are normally arranged between the parents of the
two people concerned, and some tribes practise infant betrothal.
But in any case the parties cannot be married until they have
passed through the initiation ceremonies. The prohibited degrees
of relationship differ from one tribe to another, and the following
variations are found:
(a) No marriage restrictions outside the immediate family
circle.
(b) Marriage permitted with mother’s brother’s daughter, but
forbidden with all other blood relatives, however remote.
(c) All blood relatives forbidden as mates, and clan exogamy
also practised.
Breach of these regulations is regarded as incest and is punished
as such. In addition, the marriage itself is nullified.
The essentials of a legal marriage are the formalities of be-
trothal, the payment of lobola , and the handing over of the bride
by her relatives to those of the husband. Unless these conditions
exist, any co-habitation between a man and a woman is regarded
as concubinage, and no legal obligations exist on either side. The
man is not bound to support the woman, nor she to remain with
him, and no legal action can be taken if one abandons the other.
Children of such a union belong legally to the mother, though the
PRIMITIVE LAW
342
father may, under certain circumstances, claim them by a special
payment of cattle. Normally, it is only by payment of lobola
that a man acquires any right to the children he begets by a
woman.
Though the payment of lobola is essential to a legal marriage,
the contract is effective from the time of betrothal. For example,
if the girl becomes pregnant by another man, her intended hus-
band can claim damages from her lover. Should she or her family
refuse without just cause to let the marriage take place, they are
liable for return of all payments and gifts made to them by the
young man and his relatives. But if the man should unjustifiably
break the engagement, he forfeits all such payments and gifts,
and among some tribes is also liable for damages.
Though such contractual obligations exist from the time of
betrothal, the marriage itself is not complete until the woman has
been formally handed over to her husband and the marriage has
been consummated. In some tribes the husband goes to live with
his wife’s relatives for awhile, returning with her to his own
people after the birth of a child. In other cases marriage is patri-
local from the outset. The wedding festivities may take place
either before or after the handing over of the lobola cattle. The
number of cattle handed over is usually agreed after negotiations
between the parties. Even when in theory the cattle should be
handed over before the woman goes to live with her husband,
this is often not observed in practice. Failure to complete payment
within a reasonable time renders the bridegroom’s relatives liable
to an action in court.
The lobola for a man’s first wife must be provided by his father
or guardian, assisted by contributions from other relatives. The
girl’s father receives them, and first satisfies certain traditional
claims by specified relatives, for example, the mother’s brother.
He then allocates them to the household from which the girl
came, and they are subsequently used to lobola a wife for her
brother. For marriages subsequent to the first, a man must provide
his own lobola .
Though polygyny exists, it is not practised to any marked
extent except by chiefs and other prominent or wealthy men.
The first wife married is normally the “great wife”, but there are
exceptions to this.
A husband may repudiate his wife for sorcery, barrenness,
repeated adultery, desertion, refusal of conjugal rights or failure
LEGAL INSTITUTIONS OF THE SOUTHERN BANTU 343
to perform domestic duties. A woman may leave her husband for
desertion, cruelty or flagrant ill-usage, or non-support. A divorced
woman normally returns to her parents’ home, where she reverts
to the status of an unmarried daughter and may be married again.
If the husband is regarded as being in the right, the lobola cattle
are returned to him, unless there are children, in which case none,
or only some, of the cattle are returned. But if the husband is in
the wrong, he has no claim to the cattle. In either case the
children always belong to him.
Other civil wrongs. — Apart from breaches of contract, the main
civil wrongs are: (a) seduction, adultery and similar offences
against family rights; (b) theft, trespass and other offences
against property, and (c) defamation and other wrongs against
reputation.
Wrongs connected with illicit sexual relations are regarded as
wrongs against the father, husband or guardian, not against the
woman herself. Seduction is a wrong against the father or guard-
ian, because the woman’s marriage value has been reduced. In
adultery it is the husband who is wronged. Abduction is likewise
an offence against the male individual concerned. With a few
insignificant exceptions, only men can sue in such cases, and it is
to them that any damages are paid.
The law in regard to seduction varies from one tribe to another.
In some there is no liability unless the girl conceives, in others
seduction is in any case a wrong, though a more serious one if the
girl becomes pregnant. In some tribes an action may be brought
in respect of every seduction of a girl, in others the initial seduc-
tion only can be the subject of an action. The amount of damages
is often standardized, though at a different rate in various tribes,
the rate varying from one to five head of cattle. In most tribes
the seducer has the right to marry the girl, subject to the consent
of both families, and in such cases the damages are counted as
part of the lobola payment. In one group of tribes the seducer is
not liable if the girl’s parents refuse his offer of marriage.
The adultery of a married woman does not entitle her husband
to a divorce unless the offence is frequently repeated. But he can
claim damages from the adulterer, the extent of these sometimes
varying according to whether the woman becomes pregnant or
not. A husband catching an adulterer in flagrante delicto has the
traditional right to thrash or even to kill him. Adultery with the
wife of a chief is a crime subject to capital punishment, or mutila-
S.A. 1 — 34
PRIMITIVE LAW
344
tion and confiscation of property. A woman has no right of action
in respect of her husband’s adultery.
In one group of tribes abduction of an unmarried woman is one
of the recognized preliminaries to marriage, and no damages can
be claimed over and above the marriage payments. But if for any
reason the marriage does not take place, damages can be claimed,
especially if the girl has been seduced. Other tribes do not regard
abduction as a preliminary to marriage, and treat it in the same
way as seduction. The abduction of a married woman is regarded
as an aggravated form of adultery, and therefore liable to greater
damages. In one group of tribes the husband is actually allowed
to take for himself all the cattle of the transgressor.
Wrongs against property. — Encroachment on the gardens of
another is not usually an actionable wrong. The trespasser is
merely asked to move away or is forcibly ejected, if necessary
with the support of an order or messengers from the tribal court.
But if cattle enter gardens and cause damage, the owner of the
gardens is entitled to compensation. Sometimes the extent of
damage is agreed between the parties concerned, but if this
cannot be done, an assessment is made by a court messenger. In
one group of tribes there does not seem to have been any provision
for compensation in cases of damage to gardens by cattle, but the
right of self-redress existed in that the women whose gardens were
damaged had the right to drive the cattle back into the gardens of
their owners.
Other kinds of damage to property entitle the owner to com-
pensation, which in the case of arson and other forms of malicious
damage may greatly exceed the actual damage done.
Theft is a civil wrong which may be compounded by payment of
property of greater value than that stolen. Often this takes the
form of twofold restitution. If the case comes to court, the culprit
may also have to pay a fine to the chief or other tribal authority.
Theft of cattle is regarded as particularly reprehensible, and
among some tribes a man caught red-handed stealing cattle might
be killed or have his hands cut off.
Defamation . — The law in regard to defamation varies from one
group of tribes to another. In one group the only actionable kind
of defamation is an accusation of witchcraft. Elsewhere such
statements as that a person has committed a crime or that a girl
is unchaste are also actionable, unless made in good faith to a
person in authority. Finally, in other tribes defamation is not an
LEGAL INSTITUTIONS OF THE SOUTHERN BANTU 345
actionable wrong unless the allegation has exposed the victim to
some danger, for example, a trial in court.
Penal Offences . — Variation is again found in the treatment of
crimes against the person. In one tribe the legal theory is that
injury to a member of the tribe is an injury to the chief as repre-
sentative of the tribe. No damages can be claimed by the victim
or his relatives for such an injury to the “chief’s man”. A fine is
levied and paid to the chief, who may give some of it to the person
injured, but this is a gift and not a legal privilege. A homicide
caught in the act may be killed immediately, but all other
killings must be reported to the chief, who may confiscate varying
amounts of the culprit’s property. Any person taking the law into
his own hands, except under the circumstances mentioned
above, is himself punished for the same offence.
In other tribes murder and culpable homicide are punished by
death or banishment. Furthermore, the culprit’s property and
family may be confiscated by the chief, but here again no com-
pensation is paid to the relatives of the deceased. In other tribes
the homicide is killed and his relatives must in addition give to
the family of the victim enough cattle to lobola a woman — to
replace the deceased if she was a woman, or to raise seed to him
if he was a man. No tribes permit the vendetta system of self-
help. It may be added that in all cases in which the homicide is
not actually killed he must undergo a purification ceremony to
free him from the pollution of having shed blood. Accidental
homicide, too, is differently treated from one tribe to another.
In most the homicide must pay something either to the chief or
to the relatives of the victim, in the latter case often a woman.
One group of tribes impose no penalty if the killing has been
accidental, but punish negligence with a fine.
There are various kinds of justifiable homicide, for example, the
killing of adulterers or murderers caught in the act, or nocturnal
wizards found in a homestead, or a thief found with stolen cattle
or in the cattle enclosure. In most tribes it is not only justifiable
but customary to kill twins, or children born feet first, or cutting
their upper teeth first, or presenting some other abnormality.
Such children are evil omens and must be put out of the way lest
they should bring disaster to the family. All other forms of in-
fanticide, and also abortion, are treated as penal offences if they
come to the notice of the chief, but frequently they are kept secret,
especially in the case of unmarried girls who become pregnant.
PRIMITIVE LAW
346
Assaults in which blood is shed, or serious injury inflicted, must
also come before the chief. The punishment is payment of a fine
to the chief or compensation to the victim, or both. Rape is
treated along the same lines as assault. Vulgar or obscene abuse
against an older or senior person is also an offence, since it is apt
to lead to fighting. The penalties are various — thrashing, fining or
payment of compensation to the person abused.
Crimes against tribal authorities. — Disobedience to an order given
by the chief or other tribal authority is an offence punishable
usually by a fine — this applies also to such acts as misbehaviour
in court, impudence, or refusal to give evidence. In cases of
flagrant or repeated insubordination, the offender may be
punished by sudden seizure of some or all of his stock. Actual
rebellion or conspiracy against the chief is one of the greatest
crimes in Bantu society, punishable by death and confiscation of
property.
Sorcery and other unnatural offences. — Sorcery is dreaded by the
Bantu and is drastically punished. The offence cannot be tried in
the ordinary way by the courts, since the sorcerer is often un-
conscious of the evil he is doing. So various forms of divination are
employed — legitimate magicians use their art to detect him or he
is compelled to undergo an ordeal. If guilt is established, the
sorcerer is brought before the chief and punished by banishment
or death, accompanied by confiscation of property.
Incest and sexual perversions are likewise looked upon as ill-
omened actions, and culprits are killed, often violently. Among
tribes practising clan exogamy, however, sex relations or marriage
between members of the same clan are not necessarily regarded
as incest if the relationship between them is sufficiently remote.
In such cases the two branches of the clan to which the parties
belong may separate, thus establishing two clans in place of one
and legalizing the marriage and all subsequent marriages between
the two groups.
Procedure . — Chiefs and other tribal authorities are assisted by a
panel of assessors or “remembrancers” who advise on points of
law and assist in arriving at a verdict. They must attend and
participate in all cases coming to court. Some of them are senior
patrilineal relatives of the chief or headman, others are elderly
commoners noted for their legal sagacity. Among them is always
the chief’s induna who, in addition to other political and adminis-
trative functions as the chief’s right-hand man, receives all
LEGAL INSTITUTIONS OF THE SOUTHERN BANTU 347
complaints and arranges trials. He must also see that fines are
paid and detail messengers for any work connected with the
administration of justice. Sometimes the messengers are per-
manent officials, but usually any man may be called upon to
summon litigants and witnesses or to enforce the payment of
fines. Every adult man has the right to be present at the trial of
any case and to take part in the discussion.
Apart from ordinary courts, other bodies help in the settlement
of disputes. Thus, nearly all cases affecting family relations, such
as disputes between husband and wife, are discussed in a family
council, composed of all the near male relatives of the parties
concerned. When women are directly involved, mothers and
wives are included in the council. The settlement reached by
such a council may involve payment of damages, but the council
cannot enforce payment or inflict any penalty on an offender
without his consent. If agreement cannot be reached in the family
council, the case goes to the local court. There are also regimental
courts which deal with offences in connection with the initiation
schools or regimental duties, and these courts have power to
punish offenders by thrashing or fining. One group of tribes has
special women’s courts, presided over by a woman of high rank.
These courts can take disciplinary action where women quarrel
over a man or break any of the sexual taboos.
Cases are usually tried first in the court of the authority under
whom the defendant is residing. But if the court is not competent
to give a final verdict on the case, it is merely discussed and
passed on to a higher court. The lowest courts, with very limited
jurisdiction, are those of the headmen. Next come those of the
sub-chiefs, and above these is the chief’s court, the supreme tribal
authority. The chief can try cases on appeal from a lower court
and also those which are beyond the latter’s competence. Such
cases include all penal offences, except refusal to obey orders and
contempt of court. The headman’s court can deal with all forms
of civil injury, but in important or difficult cases the headman is
bound, after discussion, to forward the case to a superior court.
Cases involving important persons are usually treated in the
same way, partly out of courtesy and partly from the common-
sense realization that an appeal is sure to be made.
Trials . — Procedure varies with the status of the court — the
smaller the court, the simpler the procedure — though the pattern
is the same throughout the judicial system. An injured party who
34 8 PRIMITIVE LAW
wishes to take action reports the matter to the defendant’s head-
man, who fixes a day for the hearing of the case. There are no
fixed sessions.
On the appointed day, all parties concerned assemble. Any
male member of the tribe may be present, even a stranger. But
women may not be present unless they are actually involved in the
case. Each party in the case is responsible for the appearance of
his own witnesses, who must attend and may, if necessary, be
summoned by messengers. Failure to appear is contempt of
court.
The judge outlines the case and the plaintiff is asked to state
his grievance. This he usually does at great length and he is seldom
called to order for straying from the point.The defendant similarly
states his case. Both may be asked questions by any person
present. Witnesses are called and similarly questioned. The case
is then usually thrown open for public discussion. The assessors
speak one by one, in ascending order of seniority, pointing out
what appear to them to be the rights and wrongs of the case
according to the evidence, and also stating the law on the subject,
referring if possible to precedents. The judge finally sums up the
evidence and opinions advanced, and gives his verdict. In theory
he should base it, not on his own opinion, but on what he thinks
is that of the majority. Where he disagrees, he may try to win the
others round to his way of thinking, but he cannot go against the
united opinion of the assessors.
Direct, circumstantial and hearsay evidence are all admitted,
though not much importance is attached to the latter in the
absence of more direct proof. The court also relics on evidence as
to the character of the defendant, particularly as to whether he
has offended in other similar cases. No oath is taken, nor is there
any form of ordeal or divination, except in cases of witchcraft.
Perjury is difficult, owing to the close questioning, and if detected
is punished.
Cases on appeal to a higher court are heard all over again from
the start, and the verdict may be confirmed, modified or reversed.
An unsuccessful appellant must not only abide by the original
verdict, but may in addition have to pay a fine for having taken
the matter so far without good cause. The chief’s verdict is final,
but a man who thinks that he has been unjustly treated by the
chief may take the matter up with one of the latter’s senior rela-
tives, or with his induna , who may induce the chief to diminish
LEGAL INSTITUTIONS OF THE SOUTHERN BANTU 349
the penalty or remit it altogether. If he refuses to do this, the
man’s only alternative is to leave the tribe and settle somewhere
else.
Sentences of corporal or capital punishment are carried out
immediately after being pronounced, but in one group of tribes a
man sentenced to thrashing may run away and find asylum in the
homestead of the chief’s wife, mother, or other prominent relative,
after which he cannot be thrashed. Damages and fines are paid on
a fixed day. Fines are paid to the headman or to the induna of a
chief. Usually a beast is killed and eaten by the men present, the
remainder going to the headman or chief as his own property.
Unreasonable delay in paying fines or damages is penalized by
augmenting them.
Factors affecting liability . — Every adult person is presumed to
know the law and to have intended the results that follow an act
he has committed. Motive is not generally taken into considera-
tion, but allowance is made for provocation. Malicious prosecu-
tion may entitle the victim to damages for defamation. Negligence
usually involves liability for resulting damage, but purely acci-
dental wrongs are almost invariably excused or far less heavily
penalized. Less liability is attached to unsuccessful attempts to
do wrong than to those which have succeeded ; in fact, the former
are seldom brought to trial. Bantu law in the main takes cog-
nizance only of wrongs actually perpetrated.
The character and attitude of the wrongdoer play an im-
portant part in determining the attitude towards him. If he
readily admits his offence, he may be lightly dealt with or even
excused altogether. If he is insolent or obstreperous, even in the
face of overwhelming evidence, he will be penalized more
heavily than usual, as are habitual offenders.
The relative status of the parties is also an important factor. In
general, offences against a person senior in age or status to the
offender are regarded as more reprehensible than they would
have been if the relative positions had been reversed, and are
more severely punished by the courts, particularly if the offence
is against the chief. Conversely, it is difficult, sometimes imposs-
ible, to obtain justice when the chief or one of his senior relatives
is the offender. Offences against kinsmen or members of the same
local group are often treated more lightly by the victim than where
the offender is an outsider. There is a greater readiness to accept
nominal damages or even to overlook the offence altogether. So,
PRIMITIVE LAW
350
too, offending foreigners are on the whole more harshly treated
than members of the tribe.
There is no time limit within which an action must be brought —
“a wrong does not decay”. A case cannot be tried in the absence
of one of the parties, unless he is dead, in which case, for example,
action may be taken against his heirs for recovery of debt. The
sooner a case is dealt with the better; but if a defendant hides or
runs away, the complainant can still bring an action even years
afterwards. But the complaint must be lodged immediately after
the offence, or it is likely to be regarded with suspicion.
The principle of collective responsibility plays an important
part in Bantu law. Every man is held responsible for the delicts
of his wife and unmarried children, and must pay their debts and
any fines or damages which they may incur. Moreover, if a man
himself is unable to pay a fine or damages, his near relatives are
expected, and can sometimes be forced, to come to his rescue.
This does not normally apply to cases where corporal or capital
punishment is involved, but in some tribes, if a man is sentenced
for sorcery or treason, not only he but also his whole family may
be punished. Collective responsibility is further seen in the
“spoor law” of certain tribes, whereby if the tracks of missing
cattle are traced to a certain kraal, the onus of proving that they
are not there lies upon the members of the kraal. If they fail to do
so, they are held collectively liable for the missing animals.
Conclusion . — The above is a brief summary of Bantu law in
South Africa as it existed in pre-European times. 1 Bantu law
reveals interesting contrasts with the legal systems of segmented
primitive communities on the one hand, and with that of our own
society on the other. The following points should be noted :
1 . Laws are not formally codified as among ourselves, yet are
more systematized than in Melanesia.
2. The distinction between “civil” and “criminal” law (or, in
Radcliffe-Brown’s terminology, between private and public
delicts) is more evident than in Melanesia, yet not so clearly
drawn as among ourselves. Differences in the classification
of theft and sexual offences should be noted.
3. The occurrence of specific legal institutions (tribal courts)
means that the operation of legal sanctions becomes more
regular and more consistent than, for example, in Wogeo,
1 It should be noted that, though the present tense has been used throughout, many
of the practices mentioned have been abandoned under European influence.
LEGAL INSTITUTIONS OF THE SOUTHERN BANTU 351
and less dependent upon the context of particular social
situations and the motives and personalities of individuals.
Yet in this respect Bantu law seems to be more flexible than
our own.
4. The ability of men of rank and influence to “get away with”
violations of the social code is less marked than in Melanesia,
though more so than among ourselves.
5. The examples of the doctrine of collective responsibility
contrast with our own conception of individual respon-
sibility, as does the tendency under certain circumstances to
neglect the question of criminal intent or mens rea .
6. The lex talionis , a prominent feature of legal systems in which
clan vengeance plays an important part, appears only
sporadically, but is in marked contrast to the absence of this
principle in our own legal system.
7. The settlement of disputes, for example regarding family
matters, by negotiation is more marked than in our own
legal system, though here it seems to be playing an increas-
ingly important part.
6 . The Definition of Primitive Law
There has been considerable controversy regarding the defini-
tion of primitive law and particularly as to whether, or in what
sense, “law” can be said to exist in primitive societies which have
no legal institutions. If we accept Roscoe Pound’s definition of law
as “social control through the systematic application of the force
of politically organized society”, we are forced to deny that the
term “law” can be applied, for example, in the segmented societies
of Melanesia. Many anthropologists adopt this view, for example,
Professor Radcliffe-Brown, who states that “ some simple societies
have no law, although they have customs which are supported by
sanctions”.
An objection to this formulation is that it may obscure the
significance of certain specific types of normative rules — those
protecting human life and property, the prohibition of incest, the
condemnation of adultery and other sexual offences, and rules
designed to inhibit greed, vanity and inordinate ambition.
Generally speaking, such rules are found in all societies, and are
enforced by sanctions of a broadly similar character: the fear of
death, mutilation or physical pain, whether inflicted by society
or through the operation of supernatural agencies; loss of material
PRIMITIVE LAW
352
advantages; expulsion from the community; or a degree of social
opprobrium so intolerable that the wrongdoer is driven to suicide
or voluntary exile.
The same criticism applies to the formulation of Hobhouse in
regard to tribes at a low level of culture : “Such societies, of course,
have their customs, which are doubtless felt as binding by their
members, but if we mean by law a body of rules enforced by an
authority independent of personal ties of kinship and friendship,
such an institution is not compatible with their social organiza-
tion.” 1 More recently the late Godfrey Wilson expressed a similar
view when he defined legal action, as distinct from other types of
sanction, as follows: “Legal action . . . may be defined as any
customary action on the part of some member, or members, of a
social group, one or more of whom are not themselves directly
and personally concerned in the issue, to prevent breaches in the
pattern of social conformity, to ensure the recurrence of human
actions in the customary form which obtains in that particular
social group.” *
The formulations of Hobhouse and Wilson do not postulate
legal institutions as necessary to the existence of law, as does
Roscoe Pound’s definition. But the conception of law as involving
essentially an appeal to some independent and disinterested party
again tends to obscure the fundamental similarity in the
consequences of violently anti-social conduct in all human
societies.
An entirely different approach to the problem of definition
lays emphasis upon the way in which sanctions operate in deter-
ring wrongdoers, rather than upon the social mechanisms — for
example, clan vengeance, chiefs’ courts or beliefs in supernatural
punishments — through which they operate. Thus Malinowski
states that “the fundamental function of law is to curb certain
natural propensities, to hem in and control human instincts and
to impose a non-spontaneous, compulsory behaviour”. 3 This view
has been elaborated by the present writer in such a way as to
stress, firstly, the fact that legal sanctions only operate when
violent human emotions tend to burst through the limits of custom-
ary behaviour; and secondly, the integral relation and similarity
between psychological motives leading to legal offences and those
upon which the effectiveness of legal sanctions is based.
1 Hobhouse, Morals in Evolution, 1915, p. 73.
Wilson (1), p. 25. * Malinowski (2), p. 64.
THE DEFINITION OF PRIMITIVE LAW 353
We have seen that law, and particularly primitive law, cannot
be considered apart from the totality of customary rules governing
human behaviour. But the phrase “cannot be considered apart
from” is not synonymous with “is”. Law is not merely part of a
vague continuum of custom. Compare the statement: “It is the
custom to eat a meal at midday” with “It is the custom to kill a
man convicted of witchcraft”. Entirely different human motives
are involved in maintaining the effectiveness of the two customs.
The former is observed largely as a matter of convenience and
because no one particularly wants to deviate from it. In the
second case violent anti-social passions are involved and the most
stringent penalty is imposed by society. This gives us a clue to a
possible distinction between law and custom. It might be held
that law only enters where selfish anti-social and disruptive ten-
dencies are likely to violate customary usage. Drastic measures
are taken to prevent this and to express horror at its occurrence.
In no human community, then, do we find an undifferentiated
continuum of custom which we can vaguely label “law” — on the
contrary, there is always a co-ordinated system of specific rules
which define correct behaviour in social situations, and which
are supported by various types of sanction. The latter term, as we
have seen, must be used in a very wide sense to include, not only
the repressive forces which prevent breaches of custom, but also
the positive inducements towards social conformity. Defined in
this way, sanctions are essentially mechanisms of validation , or forms
of human behaviour which make custom effective. And the
differences between various social rules within the normative
system are most plainly demonstrated by a description of the
sanctions by which they are enforced. By considering rules in their
integral relationship to the sanctions which support them, it is
possible to differentiate between various aspects of custom, and
in particular between legal and non-legal rules of behaviour.
In speaking of primitive communities, then, what do we mean
by the specifically legal aspect of their institutions ? The first step
in answering this question is to ask what we really mean by “law”
in the context of European civilization. If we were to ask whether,
in our own society, we should define law in terms of murder,
theft, bigamy and libel, or in terms of such offences as selling
groceries after hours or parking cars in the wrong places, the
answer would be fairly obvious; and it is upon the first group of
functions, upon the most vitally significant aspects of law in our
PRIMITIVE LAW
354
own society, that we must concentrate if we are to obtain a con-
ception of law which we can extend to primitive communities.
The interesting thing is that wc find parallels with the above
offences in all treatments of primitive law, with the addition of
one important offence which is specific to primitive communities,
namely, witchcraft. Offences such as theft, adultery, incest and
murder occur with monotonous regularity in discussions of primi-
tive law, and it is in this fact that the definition of law is to be
found. All communities have rules which direct human behaviour
and curb human impulses, and for the most part these are obeyed
fairly generally, because it is usually easier and more profitable to
conform. But certain rules have as their function the repression of
human passions such as greed, fear, hate, jealousy, vanity and
sexual desire; and the nature of these impulses is such that they
are apt to sweep everything before them, to blot out from the
individual consciousness all future considerations or moral re-
straints in the passion of their immediate appeal, and to render
quite useless the usual forces of social restraint. Such cases society
meets by an appeal to, or harnessing of, those very forces which
tend towards disruption. Physical violence, the confiscation of'
material goods, exile, abject humiliation or death are the sanctions
which society employs to frustrate the more passionately disrup-
tive forces within it.
We might then define the functional significance of law as
being to control the most violent, passionate and disruptive
propensities of the individual by the frustration, actual or
potential, of the same or similar propensities in the interests of
social order. This definition applies primarily to what we usually
call criminal law, but it is also applicable to civil law, because the
latter depends, in the last analysis, upon a trial of physical force
between the individual on the one hand and the officers of the
law, or the supporters of the aggrieved party, on the other.
We must not forget that legal mechanisms, as defined above,
may have secondary functions. They may be extended to the
correction of minor offences, to the settlement of trifling disputes,
and to the regulation of administrative procedure. We arc
justified in relegating these to a position of secondary importance
since they might be regulated in other ways. But the primary
function of law as wc have defined it is something vital to the
existence of every human society.
We have reviewed several approaches to the problem of the
THE DEFINITION OF PRIMITIVE LAW 355
definition of primitive law, not because any satisfactory conclusion
can be reached on this subject, but because the discussion brings
to light the complex theoretical problems connected with the
study of primitive law and custom. None of the above definitions
is really adequate, since each seeks to define primitive law by
stressing one aspect of the legal system of our own society. Thus
our own suggested definition would bring within the scope of law
the drastic supernatural punishments which reinforce many
customs in primitive society. To describe the beliefs in such
punishments as a form of legal sanction is hardly in accord with
ordinary usage. Yet our definition is significant as emphasizing
that, for example, the fear of death operates in very much the
same way as a deterrent whether the agency of execution is a
living hangman or an outraged ancestor. The other definitions
which we have discussed lay emphasis on other aspects of the
problem, in particular the importance of differences in the social
agencies through which sanctions operate, specifically in a com-
parison between those communities which possess legal institu-
tions and those which do not. Thus, while each definition is in
itself open to objection, each is nevertheless valuable in emphasiz-
ing certain features which must be studied in considering the legal
and normative systems of primitive communities.
7. Bibliographical Commentary
Many of the nineteenth-century discussions of primitive law
centred around the light which, it was thought, the study of this
subject could cast on the early origins of our own legal institu-
tions. For a discussion of the more important of these, see Lowie
(2), Chapter V.
For discussions of the theoretical problems of primitive law see
Radcliffe-Brown (7), Wilson (1) and Malinowski (2) and Intro-
duction to Hogbin (2).
The material presented above from Wogeo and from the Bantu
peoples of South Africa has been abstracted from Hogbin (7) and
Schapera (1). Other valuable discussions of primitive law and
political organization are contained in Brown and Hutt (1), in
the various essays contained in Fortes and Evans-Pritchard (1),
and in Hogbin (2), Kaberry (2), Malinowski (2), Meek (1),
Schapera (3), and Wilson (1).
CHAPTER X
RELIGION AND MAGIC
/. Some Early Theories of Primitive Religion
By contrast with the more mundane phases of native culture,
such as economics, education and family life, the religion and
magic of primitive peoples loom large in the older field records
and in the history of anthropological theory. Spectacular cere-
monies, queer rites and weird beliefs immediately attracted
attention, were meticulously described and produced a spate of
theoretical interpretations. Magico-religious beliefs and practices
were explained as the results of intellectual speculation or of the
specifically “primitive” condition of “pre-logical mentality”. But
little attempt was made to relate these beliefs and practices to
everyday life, to individual hopes and fears, or to tho collective
pursuits and organization of human communities. Religion and
magic can only be understood in terms of what they do, the needs
which they satisfy, and the influence which they have on human
behaviour.
To study primitive religion and magic scientifically, it is essen-
tial to lay aside our own beliefs and categories. Christian faith
and atheism are alike irrelevant to the sociological interpretation
of magico-religious beliefs, whether primitive or civilized. We
must simply accept the fact that such beliefs exist, that they are
instilled and reinforced by powerful cultural forces which make
them valid for the people who hold them, and that they exert a
significant influence on individual and social behaviour.
This approach to magico-religious institutions is a compara-
tively new development. The earliest discussions of primitive
cults treated them as prototypes of more advanced religions, and
the chief object in studying them was to gaii\ x an understanding
of the origin of human religion and of the psychological processes
whereby man first arrived at a belief in the supernatural.
Animism . — The first of these attempts to explain the origin of
religion was the animistic theory propounded by E. B. Tylor,
and subsequently adopted by Herbert Spencer. According to this
356
EARLY THEORIES OF PRIMITIVE RELIGION 357
view, the idea of the soul was the essential fact in the genesis of
religion, which was held to have been due to a process of reasoning
carried out by primitive man.
The steps in the intellectual process whereby man arrived at a
belief in the soul were, according to the animistic theory, as
follows: the idea of the soul was derived originally from the
experiences of dreams when, apparently, a part of the sleeper
leaves his body and wanders abroad as a separate entity, from
which was inferred an essential dualism in the nature of man.
Fainting and other similar conditions provided further examples
of a temporary separation between the body and the soul, while
at death a further separation took place, this time of a permanent
character. The soul, which left the body permanently at death,
was held still to influence the lives of the survivors for good or ill,
and this led to prayers and sacrifices designed to secure blessings
and avert evil. The first religion was thus the cult of ancestors,
which subsequently gave rise to other forms.
Among the most important of these later religious forms was
the worship of nature, based upon the belief in the supernatural
qualities of animals, plants and material objects. This cult Tylor
and Spencer derived from the worship of ancestors, though in
different ways.
According to Tylor, the extension of religious interest from the
souls of ancestors to the phenomena of nature was due to the
peculiar mentality of the primitive, who, like the very young
child, did not distinguish between the animate and the inanimate,
and thus came to endow the phenomena of nature with a spiritual
quality analogous to his own.
The manner in which Herbert Spencer derives the worship of
nature from that of ancestors is rather different. For him, the
transition was due to linguistic errors : men are frequently known
by the names of animals, plants or other natural objects, and
Spencer suggested that, after such a man had been dead for some
time, his descendants would mistake his name for a descriptive
title — if he had been called “Tiger”, his descendants would, in
time, come to believe that he really was a tiger, and since the
ghost is often believed to revisit its old home, the divinity of the
ancestor would eventually come to be regarded as incarnate in
the animal. He offers similar explanations of other aspects of
nature worship . 1
1 Principles qf Sociology, Vol. I, Chaps. XXII-XXIV.
358 RELIGION AND MAGIC
Naturism . — As we have seen, the animistic theory gives primacy
to the worship of the soul, and derives the worship of nature from
it. But another school of thought, associated particularly with the
name of Max Muller, reverses the order, and derives the belief in
supernatural beings from the sensations aroused in man by the
overwhelming and at times cataclysmic manifestations of nature.
These, far from being “natural”, were calculated to make the
human mind aware of “the overwhelming pressure of the in-
finite”. Such sensations were the germ of religious experience,
which grew into religion proper through a disease of language.
Muller holds that man first called the striking phenomena of
nature by terms which denoted their activities — “a thunderbolt
was called something that tears up the soil or that spreads fire;
the wind something that sighs and whistles”, 1 and so on. This
description of the phenomena of nature in terms of human or
quasi-human activities led to an interpretation of them in anthro-
pomorphic terms, and divine personalities were invented to
account for the activities of natural phenomena. The origin of
religion thus lay in a disease of thought and of language — since
the words used to describe the awe-inspiring phenomena of
nature were terms denoting human activities, these terms were
taken to imply the existence of personal agencies operative in the
natural phenomena themselves.
The theory of Frazer . — The theories so far mentioned derive
religion essentially from the supposed primordial speculations of
man concerning phenomena with which he came in contact,
whether spiritual or material, religious beliefs arising from the
impressions, intellectual or emotional, produced by a contempla-
tion of these phenomena. They assumed a certain abstract
philosophical curiosity concerning the phenomena of human life
and of nature, which drove man to a series of inferences, the end-
product of which was religion. It was Sir James Frazer who first
introduced the pragmatic element into the study of primitive
religion by attributing its growth to an active desire for effective
control of the phenomena of nature, rather than to passive im-
pressions derived from the contemplation of them. The sources of
primitive religion he finds in the failure of magic to effect the
desired results. Magic he believes to be a mistaken application of
principles of association which, properly employed, lead to
science:
1 Quoted by Durkheira (i), p. 77.
EARLY THEORIES OF PRIMITIVE RELIGION 359
“The fatal flaw of magic lies, not in its general assumption of a
sequence of events determined by law, but in its total misconcep-
tion of the particular laws which govern that sequence. . . . The
principles of association are excellent in themselves, and indeed
absolutely essential to the working of the human mind. Legit-
imately applied, they yield science; illegitimately they yield magic,
the bastard sister of science .” 1
Magic, then, seeks directly to influence the natural sequence of
cause and effect, and shares with science the fundamental belief
that this sequence is absolute and invariable. But religion rests
upon a different assumption, namely, the belief in the existence
of “powers superior to man which are believed to direct and
control the course of nature and of human life.” 2 This stage of
belief, which is a step beyond that of faith in magic, is reached
when man realizes the futility of his magical practices, and in-
stead offers supplications to powers higher than himself, who can,
he believes, alter the normal sequence of cause and effect at his
behest. This theory goes far beyond those which we have men-
tioned previously, in stressing the part played by human needs in
the genesis of religion, as well as philosophical speculation. Such
speculation is held to be carried out under the stimulus of man’s
desire to control life and nature in accordance with his own
wishes, a desire whose first manifestation is found in magic. But
like the other theories, that of Frazer is orientated from a specific
methodological point of view, based upon a desire to discover the
origin of religion in the history of mankind, rather than to under-
stand the reality of existing religions, and the part which they
play in living human cultures.
This specific orientation of early theories of religion was due to
the hypothesis of evolution, which had, at the time when they
were conceived, revolutionized biological science; and it seems
not unnatural that the first attempts at a scientific study of religion
should have regarded present-day phenomena mainly as a means
of understanding the past. The most striking example of this
tendency is, as one would expect, the sociological system of
Herbert Spencer, who sought, in every phase of social life, a pro-
gression from simple to more complex forms comparable with
that which is observable in biological evolution.
Based upon this common motif \ each theory developed along
particular lines, understandable in terms of the context in which
1 Frazer (3), pp. 49-50. 1 Ibid.
s . a . 1 — 25
RELIGION AND MAGIC
360
it was conceived. It seems natural that Tylor, reviewing for the
first time the range of primitive religious beliefs, should be struck
by the active part which ghosts and spirits of the dead play in
many primitive communities, as opposed to their nebulous
character and the apathy towards the concerns of the living
which they exhibit in a civilized European community. In view
of this, it is not surprising that he should find the origin of religion
in the cult of ancestors. Again Max Muller, studying the history
of religion as a philologist, quite naturally found its beginnings in
linguistic usage. Finally, Sir James Frazer, bringing to the study
of primitive society a wealth of classical scholarship, emphasizes
just those facts which were important in the religion of ancient
Greece, namely, on the one hand the active influence of the gods
on human affairs, and on the other that intellectual curiosity
which led to the birth of philosophy. His theory may perhaps be
regarded as a synthesis of these two conceptions.
The theory of Durkheim . — The work of fimile Durkheim, the
French sociologist, for the first time shifted the emphasis in the
study of primitive religion from the past to the present. He
criticizes in detail the earlier theories , 1 the main point of his argu-
ment being that they all regard religion as a survival of some ele-
mentary intellectual blunder, some primordial process of muddled
thinking. Any such theory, he holds, fails to explain why religion,
founded upon a great illusion, should have survived so long, and
should play the part which it does in human communities. If, on
the other hand, we regard religion as corresponding to some
reality, as meeting some actual human requirement, this problem
does not arise. The reality upon which religion is founded is, for
Durkheim, essentially social, and is based upon the solidarity and
spiritual communion which the individual feels with the fellow-
members of his social group, and he proceeds to elaborate this
theory in relation to Australian totemism.
The defect of Durkheim’s view is that he regards social solidar-
ity, which is nowhere adequately defined, as an end in itself, and
does not attempt to relate it to other aspects of native life, nor to
individual urges considered apart from “collective representa-
tions” superimposed upon the individual by society. Undoubtedly
a sense of solidarity or community feeling exists in all social co-
operation, but such co-operation depends upon individual needs
attaining their ends through social institutions. Religion has an
1 Durkheim (1), Book I, Chapters II and III.
EARLY THEORIES OF PRIMITIVE RELIGION 361
effect in expressing and maintaining social cohesion of a non-
religious character. Concretely, for example, Australian totemic
increase ceremonies do undoubtedly serve the function which
Durkheim attributed to them, namely, that of increasing the sense
of the individual’s participation in the life of his social group.
But they do far more than this; in the first place, they possess a
marked economic function 1 ; they imply organized co-operation
in productive activities, and they are very definitely related to
the practical pursuits of a hunting and collecting people; their
control by the old men emphasizes the political organization of
the community, and their associated mythology is closely related
to family life through the totemic theory of reproduction. The
social solidarity which they express can therefore only be under-
stood by considering it in concrete terms, that is, in relation to the
extraneous institutional activities to which they are so closely
related.
2. Religion and Magic
As with the definition of religion, so with the differentiation of
magic from religion, several divergent views have been advanced.
That of Frazer has been mentioned above. For Durkheim, re-
ligion is essentially social, while magic is individual and even
anti-social: “There is no Church of magic. Between the magician
and the individuals who consult him, as between these in-
dividuals themselves, there are no lasting bonds which make them
members of the same moral community, comparable to that
formed by the believers in the same god or the observers of the
same cult. The magician has a clientele and not a Church.” 2 It
should be noted that this distinction would not be applicable, for
example, to Trobriand garden magic or to the magical practices
connected with the Kula. In both of these magical systems, rites
which are concerned with the common aspirations of the whole
community are inextricably interwoven with those designed to
promote the interests of individuals.
A different distinction between religion and magic is drawn by
Malinowski: “Compare fhe says] a rite carried out to prevent
death in childbed with another typical custom, a ceremony in
celebration of a birth. The first rite is carried out as a means to an
1 Cf. Malinowski, “The Economic Aspect of the Intichiuma Ceremonies,**
Festskrift tillegnad Edvard Westermarck , t anledning av Hans Femtioarsdag,
1 Durkheim (1), Book I, Chapter I, Section IV.
362 RELIGION AND MAGIC
end, it has a definite practical purpose which is known to all who
practise it and can be easily elicited from any native informant.
The post-natal ceremony, say a presentation of a new-born or a
feast of rejoicing in the event, has no purpose ; it is not a means to
an end, but is an end in itself. It expresses the feelings of the
mother, the father, the relatives, the whole community, but there
is no future event which this ceremony foreshadows, which it is
meant to bring about or to prevent. This difference will serve us
as a prima facie distinction between magic and religion. While in
the magical act the aim is always clear, straightforward and
definite, in the religious ceremony there is no purpose directed
towards a subsequent event . 9 * 1
The objection to this as a basis of classification is that it leaves
many of the phenomena unclassified. Most religious systems in-
clude ceremonies with a definite and clearly formulated objective,
such as the provision of rain, the aversion of public calamities, or
success in war. On the other hand, many acts usually classified as
magical lack entirely a “clear, straightforward and definite 99 aim,
as in the many minor observances which have only a very vague
objective of avoiding “bad luck 99 , which is probably not by any
means always envisaged during their performance. Again, many
religious ceremonies have an objective which, though not as
specific as it might be, is none the less present, such as pleasing a
deity, or removing sin from a congregation. Further, even such
predominantly self-contained ceremonies as Malinowski cites
have a general, if not a specific, objective. For example, initiation
ceremonies are aimed at “making the boy into a man". This fact
comes out very clearly in the beliefs concerning the results of
non-performance, for in many religious ceremonies there exists
a specific fear of evil consequences if the ritual is omitted or
negligently carried out. Thus, though we may agree with Malin-
owski’s formulation as representing a general tendency, we must
not lose sight of the fact that religious ceremonies cannot be
considered apart from subsequent events supposed to follow from
their performance on the one hand or from failure to carry them
out on the other.
Probably no attempt to differentiate between religion and
magic in primitive communities can be satisfactory. It is a waste of
time to attempt to lay down dogmatically what is religion and
what is magic, as though there were some pre-ordained distinc-
1 Malinowski (12), p. 38
RELIGION AND MAGIC 363
tion between them. Any distinction drawn must rest upon the
procedure of abstracting from religion and magic as conceived by
ourselves two contrasting elements which are then applied to the
quite different categories of primitive magico-religious systems.
For us, religion, for example Christianity or the paganism of
Greece and Rome, includes :
(a) A belief in one or more spiritual beings;
( b ) Collective activity (the “church” of Durkheim);
(tf) Gatherings which have no special object except worship and
communion, for example ordinary church services; and
(d) The pursuit of ends approved by society.
On the other hand, our idea of magic is of something which :
(a) Produces results directly, that is, without the intervention
of spiritual beings;
(b) Is essentially individual and often secret;
(c) Has a definite objective in view; and
(d) Is often malicious and therefore socially condemned.
Taking any one selected criterion, we can define a given primi-
tive rite as “religious” or “magical”; but the classification will
often change if we select a different criterion, and will in any case
probably prove inapplicable to primitive magico-religious systems,
as distinct from particular rites. In terms of the above criteria,
most of the phenomena with which we are dealing are “religious”
in some respects and “magical” in others. For example, Australian
totemic increase ceremonies involve spiritual beings, but not in
the ordinarily “religious” sense; they are collective in character,
sometimes secret and sometimes not ; they have a definite end in
view, namely, the increase of the species; and they are socially
approved. So they are “religious” according to some definitions
and “magical” according to others.
It is therefore better in general to speak of “magico-religious”
phenomena, institutions, beliefs and practices without trying to
fit them into any hard-and-fast division between “religion” and
“magic”. For descriptive purposes we may use the term “re-
ligious” to refer to the ways in which belief in the supernatural is
established and reinforced and collective sentiments are ex-
pressed, reserving “magical” for the cases where such beliefs are
used to produce practical results. Avoiding pedantry, we may
roughly label any phenomenon we are considering either “re-
ligion” or “magic” according to which of the above functions
seem to predominate.
RELIGION AND MAGIC
3^4
Not only are the words “religion” and “magic” used in
ambiguous and varying senses by different writers, but so also are
other terms connected with man’s relation to the supernatural.
Thus, the terms witchcraft and sorcery are often used synonymously,
the former being commonly applied to beliefs in Africa and the
latter to those of Oceania. The commonest distinction drawn
between them is based upon the possibility of the practices
described actually occurring. Thus, when an informant can
describe and actually demonstrate a technique of black magic,
for example, breathing on a bundle of herbs and reciting a spell,
the practice is usually described as sorcery; it is demonstrably
possible for a person to do the things described, even though the
alleged results do not follow from them. On the other hand, when
it is believed that an injurious substance may emanate from the
body of an evilly disposed person and enter the body of his
victim, or in the case of the common Australian and Melanesian
belief that a man may extract some vital part of his victim’s body
and seal up the wound so as to leave no trace, it is manifestly
impossible for the events described to take place and the proce-
dure is referred to as witchcraft.
Another possible distinction is on the basis of the reaction of
society. Some writers use the terms “black magic” and “white
magic” for practices which are condemned or approved respec-
tively by the community in which they occur. A similar distinc-
tion is sometimes drawn between witchcraft and sorcery. The
activities described as witchcraft are socially condemned, and the
convicted witch 1 is often killed or otherwise severely punished.
Sorcery, however, though it may be resented by the injured
person and his kinsfolk and may lead to retaliation, is not subject
to social condemnation to the same extent. In many Oceanic
communities sorcery, as such, is not the subject of any moral
judgment. In dealing with such communities, Dr. Hogbin has
aptly compared sorcery with a weapon such as a dagger. It is
neither moral nor immoral in itself. If it is used to punish a thief
or adulterer, then its use is justifiable. If it is employed for anti-
social purposes and without provocation, then its employment
is wrong, not because there is anything inherently evil in sorcery,
but because the ends for which it is employed are unjustified.
1 The term “witch 1 * is generally employed in ethnographic writings to include both
males and females, though the term “warlock 11 should more properly be applied to
the former.
RELIGION AND MAGIC 365
In conclusion, we may refer to some beliefs connected with
witchcraft which are never associated with the activities com-
monly called sorcery. In many cases it is believed that a person
may be a witch without being aware of the fact, and can inflict
harm without intending to do so. It is held that such persons
simply cannot avoid having a malevolent influence, which they
exercise through the possession of the “evil eye” or some similar
characteristic.
Similar ambiguities exist in the case of terms used for magical
practitioners of various kinds. The term magician is employed
both for those who practise black magic and for those who carry
out magical rites approved by society, and it must be emphasized
that the same person is often a practitioner in both fields. The
term medicine-man is similarly used, though by derivation it should
apply to an individual who employs magical substances or
“medicines” to secure good or evil results, as is common among
many African and Amerindian tribes. But it must be emphasized
that elsewhere, lor example in Melanesia and Australia, magical
substances are often absent from magical practices or play a
minor part in them. In these instances it is the rite or the spell,
rather than the employment of herbs or other substances, in
which magical potency is believed to reside.
In anthropology the term witch doctor is usually applied to
individuals who possess the power of detecting witchcraft and
identifying witches by magical practices, but in popular writings
it is often used in a sense more or less equivalent to “medicine-
man”, that is, as applying to someone who effects cures by the
employment of magical substances or supernatural techniques.
The term shaman is mainly used with reference to the Siberian
tribes among which it originated and also Amerindian peoples.
Shamans are broadly distinguished from priests, in that their
activities are related to private or individual magic, such as
diagnosing and curing illness, exorcizing evil spirits and providing
charms to ensure success or good luck. The term priest , on the
other hand, is usually restricted to functionaries who carry out
public ceremonies on behalf of the community at large. But in
many cultures, for example among the Eskimo, we find the two
functions combined in the same individual.
It is impossible to be more definite on the use of all these terms.
As with the terms “religion” and “magic”, so with the names
applied to various functionaries connected with these activities,
366 RELIGION AND MAGIC
we are unable to reach any satisfactory set of definitions. And as
we saw in the case of law, attempts to define European terms in
their application to primitive categories can never lead to any
definite conclusion. Discussions on definition are useful as
emphasizing first one and then another of the manifold facets of
the phenomena we are considering, and as indicating in a very
general way the sense in which various terms are employed. But
we cannot reach anything approaching scientific definitions of
general applicability, because the categories of primitive cultures
vary greatly from our own and also from one another. The only
way of achieving precision is to define the sense in which a series
of terms is employed with specific reference to each magico-religious
system in turn . This is done, for example, by Professor Evans-
Pritchard in his study of witchcraft and its associated beliefs and
practices among the Azande. He gives a list of native terms, an
approximate English equivalent and a brief definition of the term
as it is employed by the natives. In this way he ensures that the reader
knows exactly what he means by such terms as “witch”, “magi-
cian” and “witch doctor” in speaking of the Azande, though the
meaning of such terms necessarily changes as soon as they are
applied to any other culture.
3. The Cultural Function of Religion and Magic
Our emphasis upon the diversity of magico-religious beliefs,
practices and functionaries must not blind us to the universality
of beliefs connected with the supernatural and the common
functions which they subserve in all human communities. Though
various primitive peoples have different conceptions of the opera-
tion of supernatural forces, of the extent to which these act
directly or through the agency of spiritual beings, of the moral
justification or culpability of magical practices and of the specific
powers of particular individuals, they all possess a magico-religious
system. Very broadly, the function of this is to provide psycho-
logical safeguards against failure, methods of controlling the in-
calculable, expressions of collective optimism, explanations of
failure and disaster, and ways of securing and enforcing socially
orientated co-operation. This is not, of course, done consciously.
We do not know how primitive peoples first arrived at beliefs and
practices connected with the supernatural. All that we can ob-
serve is that they all have such beliefs and practices which are
passed on from generation to generation as part of the cultural
CULTURAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION AND MAGIC 367
tradition, and that the existence and vitality of such beliefs and
practices depend upon certain universal characteristics of human
life.
All peoples possess a body of technical knowledge and equip-
ment which enables them to satisfy their individual and social
needs. But this is never entirely adequate. The need for food is
menaced by shortages, droughts, hurricanes, pests and other
dangers; sickness is always possible and death inevitable; some
pursuits, such as navigation and warfare, are specially hazardous;
individuals suffer misfortune, and communities are sometimes
visited with public calamities. On the other hand, there are
windfalls and unexpected successes. All of these are, for the native,
determined by factors not controllable by his scientific and
technical equipment.
There exist, therefore, beliefs and practices which supplement
the gaps in practical knowledge, give confidence against possible
failure and stimulate hope of success. Magico-religious beliefs
and practices provide (a) an explanation of incalculable and un-
controllable events in human life, and ( b ) a putative way of con-
trolling them and steps which can be taken to express the hopes
of the human beings concerned and to establish their faith that
these hopes will be realized. This is vividly reflected in the way in
which spells, rites and prayers envisage, anticipate and dramatize
the result desired. Consider, for example, the following condensed
extract from a spell of Trobriand garden magic:
“The belly of my garden grows to the size of a bush-hen’s nest,
The belly of my garden grows like an ant-hill;
The belly of my garden rises and is bowed down,
The belly of my garden rises like the iron-wood palm,
The belly of my garden lies down,
The belly of my garden swells,
The belly of my garden swells as with a child.”
To appreciate the meaning of such a spell, it is necessary to
appreciate the position of the Trobriand gardener. Agriculture is
the main pursuit of his life; a good harvest means a condition of
malia or plenty, a bad one may mean molu , shortage, or even
starvation; not only hunger, but self-respect, expressed in the
obligations to present food to kinsfolk, are involved in the success
of gardening. The Trobriander has a body of practical agricul-
RELIGION AND MAGIC
368
tural knowledge which he applies in gardening. But the outcome
of his efforts is determined partly by factors which he cannot
control by the employment of his practical knowledge and
technique. Hence the significance of the above dramatic repre-
sentation which envisages the desired result in a series of striking
and often hyperbolic metaphors.
Not only the language but also the ritual of magic and religion
provide a symbolic expression of the result desired. Sir James
Frazer drew a distinction between two varieties of what he called
sympathetic magic , namely, homoeopathic and contagious magic. Sym-
pathetic magic is founded, on Frazer’s theory outlined above, on a
mistaken application of the principles of association which may
take two forms, based respectively upon similarity and con-
tiguity. Thus, there are two widespread types of sorcery which
exemplify the two kinds of magic. In one, an effigy of the victim
is made in wax or some other substance, and is burned, pierced or
otherwise injured in the belief that this will produce a similar
effect on the victim. In the other type, something which has been
in close contact with the victim — an item of clothing, nail parings,
hair clippings or excreta — becomes the object of destructive magic.
In both cases the emotional basis is similar, and hatred is expressed
by destructive action against some material object which repre-
sents symbolically the hated person. The bodily expressions
involved in magic are thus not unlike such actions as the clenching
of the fists in anger, or the action of the lips, as though expelling
some unpleasant substance from the mouth, in expressions of dis-
gust. They are culturally standardized ways of expressing cer-
tain emotions for which they provide at least a partial satisfaction.
The universal tendency to express human hopes and desires in
magico-rcligious speech or ritual does not mean that the native
neglects practical measures to achieve his ends. He does not
believe that he can produce fertility by spells and rites alone. He
adopts all the practical measures provided by his culture, and in
addition carries out magico-religious practices. Far from dis-
tracting from practical effort, these actually stimulate it by in-
hibiting apathy and despair and by providing a public stimulus
towards constructive collective effort. We must distinguish
between the illusory and the real effects of magico-religious
practices. The results thought by the natives to follow are
illusory, but the stimulating, vitalizing and organizing effects are
real. In addition, as we shall see, a number of subsidiary functions
CULTURAL FUNCTION OF RELIGION AND MAGIC 369
arc served: authority of parents and chiefs is reinforced, wrong-
doers are deterred, and traditional standards generally are main-
tained. In addition, religious beliefs produce personal as well as
social integration.
Before concluding our discussion of the cultural function of
religion and magic, we must refer to an analytical discussion in
which the explanation of magico-religious phenomena in terms
of human anxiety is criticized with special reference to ritual.
Professor Radcliffe-Brown writes: “I think that for certain rites
it would be easy to maintain with equal plausibility an exactly
contrary theory, namely, that if it were not for the existence of
the rite and the beliefs associated with it, the individual would
feel no anxiety, and that the psychological effect of the rite is to
create in him a sense of insecurity or danger.” 1 Professor Rad-
cliffe-Brown goes on to emphasize the role of ritual in expressing
social values. For him, such practices as the taboos observed
by a father in connection with his wife’s pregnancy are to be
explained in terms of the obligatory social sentiments connected
with the family, rather than as a psychological safeguard against
the dangers awaiting the mother and newly born infant.
In view of what we have said concerning the unitary nature of
magico-religious beliefs and practices, there does not appear to
be any contradiction between the two theories. All magico-
religious systems, and most magico-religious acts, have two
aspects, which might be called respectively consecratory and
prophylactic the latter term being employed in a psychological
sense. These, of course, correspond with “religion” and “magic”
in Malinowski’s sense. But in the actual study of magico-religious
phenomena they are inextricably interwoven, and can only be
isolated by a process of abstraction. Thus, the taboos connected
with childbirth serve both to express its social importance and to
allay anxiety concerning the risks inevitably connected with the
event. Similarly, the spell of Trobriand garden magic cited above
stimulates confidence in a good crop, and also emphasizes the social
importance of agriculture, which is one of the most important
institutional activities of the Trobriand Islanders.
4 . The Charter of Mythology
Among the beliefs connected with the magico-religious
systems of primitive peoples, some of the most important are to be
1 Radcliffe-Brown (8), p. 39.
370 RELIGION AND MAGIC
found in the field of mythology. Almost all primitive peoples have
some systematic account of how the world, and the various social
institutions which make up their culture, came into being. Such
beliefs interlock with others referring to the contemporary opera-
tion of supernatural forces, so that the two sets of belief form an
integrated whole, myth and miracle being complementary
to each other. But the effects of mythology extend beyond
the purely magico-religious field. Mythology provides a charter
for existing social institutions in a way which may be illustrated
by reference to one of the many Trobriand myths connected
with the Kula, namely, the myth of the Kudayuri flying
canoe.
The story relates to the village of Kudayuri, on the island of
Kitava. This island is fringed by a coral ridge surrounding a
central declivity; large canoes are therefore dug out and lashed
on the beach, as it would be difficult to carry them over the coral
ridge if they were constructed in the villages.
At one time in the distant past the people of Kitava decided to
go on a Kula expedition. All the villages set about constructing
their canoes on the beaches except the village of Kudayuri, whose
headman, a man called Mokatuboda, ordered the villagers, in
spite of their protests, to prepare their canoe in the village. The
myth goes on to describe the various technological activities of
canoe building, as carried out in the village of Kudayuri under the
direction of Mokatuboda and on the beach by members of other
villages. When all was ready, Mokatuboda ordered his crew to
man the canoe (which still lay in the village) and to hoist the sail.
He recited magical spells and struck the canoe with a charmed
adze, and the canoe flew into the air. A rock stood before it, but
the flying canoe pierced through it. Mokatuboda looked out and
saw the canoes of the other villages sailing upon the sea below.
There are many incidents connected with this magical canoe,
tales of how on the Kula expedition it always sailed last of all the
fleet, but because of its superior speed arrived first at its destina-
tion.
The myth goes on to tell how Mokatuboda made evil garden
magic to bring rain to his own garden but not to those of others,
so that their crops were burned in the sun. The people decided
to kill Mokatuboda so that they could perform magic for all the
gardens. But they did not know that Mokatuboda had kept back
some of the most powerful of his magic both for gardening and in
THE CHARTER OF MYTHOLOGY 371
connection with the flying canoe. They killed him, but when next
year his younger brother attempted to carry out magic to make
the canoe fly, this proved ineffective — when the crucial and
dramatic moment came the canoe would not rise into the air,
because some of the most vital parts of the magic had been kept
back.
The three sisters of Mokatuboda, who had learned his flying
magic, were angry at his murder and decided to leave Kitava.
They flew about among neighbouring islands in a flying canoe,
piercing certain rocks and sailing round promontories. One of
them became a stone which can still be seen in the sea. The other
two sailed on. One of them ate men, and she cast her eyes on the
island of Dobu, hence the Dobuans are cannibals to this day. The
other who was not a man-eater turned her face to Boyowa, hence
the natives of this island do not eat human flesh. These two
women were also changed into rocks visible in the sea, but
spiritually they became flying witches.
This legend appears at first to consist largely of pointless inci-
dents, and, indeed, it is a characteristic of primitive mythology
that the behaviour of the characters often appears to be un-
motivated. On the other hand, the myth possesses a very real
significance in terms of the Kula and its associated magic. The
first point to note is the emphasis on the efficiency of magic — it
was because Mokatuboda possessed such extraordinary magic
that he was able to cause his canoe to fly. Much of his magical
knowledge died with him, but he did leave some of his magic, and
this gives validity to beliefs in the magic actually performed today
to impart speed to canoes. The myth, moreover, in the complete
version, embodies a fairly complete description of a Kula expedi-
tion, even embracing details of technology involved in the pre-
liminary preparation of a sea-going canoe.
The myth thus provides a charter for the institution of the Kula
as it exists today, and in particular for the authority of the head-
man of a village as master of the canoe and organizer of the activi-
ties connected with it. It also gives an account of the origin of
the flying witches, who are believed, among other malevolent
activities, to menace the safety of men at sea. Finally, the myth
explains certain contemporary features both of geographical
environment and social custom. Certain rocks visible in the sea
are connected with the doings of the sisters of Mokatuboda, as is
the difference in the attitude towards the eating of human flesh
372 RELIGION AND MAGIC
in Dobu and in Boyowa respectively. The miraculous events
narrated in the myth, with the sanction they provide for magii al
belief and social practice, thus become, as it were, embedded in
reality. Visible features of the landscape provide tangible evidence
of the truth and social relevance of the myth.
Many primitive myths are specifically concerned with account-
ing for and validating features of the social organization of the
people concerned, for example, the Tikopia myth of the origin of
totemism, which runs as follows : in the distant past a god called
Tikarau came to Tikopia from distant lands. A feast was prepared
to welcome him and a huge pile of food laid out. By a ruse
Tikarau disposed temporarily of his hosts, and while they were
away seized all the food which had been laid out. Carrying this
burden, he fled to the hills with the ancestor deities of the Tikopia
in close pursuit. He tripped and fell at a certain spot, where a
deep groove in the hillside today bears witness to the truth of the
story. The ancestors of the Tikopia came up and, before Tikarau
reached a cliff' and launched himself into space, were able to
seize four items of food. One seized a coco-nut, another a taro,
another a breadfruit and others a yam. Thus, though Tikarau
succeeded in stealing most of the feast, the ancestors of the
Tikopia were able to preserve the principal food-stuff's and
transmit them to posterity. The ancestral deity of Tafua clan
saved the coco-nut, that of Taumako the taro and so on, so that
the ancestor of each clan saved the particular food-stuff which
is associated with it as a totem and which is believed to be under
its special jurisdiction by virtue of the particular associations
established in the myth.
A recognition of the function of myth in establishing a social
order, linked with the natural order and going back to the
beginning of time, helps to explain a feature of certain primitive
theologies which is perplexing to us. The supreme deities of many
primitive peoples are believed to play little part in contemporary
affairs. Thus, in parts of Polynesia some of the greatest gods who
played a leading part in the cosmogony were not actively wor-
shipped and were believed to be remote from the affairs of men.
The gods actually worshipped and believed to be powerful in
affecting human destiny were lesser deities. Again, in Ashanti, the
creator god ’Nyame was believed to be remote from everyday
affairs, which were the province of the ancestral deities which
ranked below him in the pantheon. The occurrence of such “lazy
THE CHARTER OF MYTHOLOGY 373
gods” can be understood if we appreciate the fact that the
honour accorded to them and the tales of their miraculous deeds
serve to establish social codes which are thus made binding and
intelligible by virtue of their association with the very origin of the
world.
In a rather special category of mythology we find widespread
varieties of myths of the origin of death. These envisage a time in
the distant past when man was immortal. They tell a story in
which, usually through some lapse of attention or moral fault on
the part of one of the characters, death was introduced. One type
of such myths is that of the two messengers, as in the Zulu story
of how the great creator spirit Unkulunkulu sent the chameleon
with a message to mankind saying, “Let not men die”. But the
chameleon loitered on the way, and in the meantime Unkulun-
kulu changed his mind and sent the lizard after the chameleon
with the message: “Let men die”. Because of the chameleon’s
tardiness the lizard passed him on the way, and arrived first with
his message of death, so that when the chameleon arrived, men
said: “We have heard the words of the lizard — we cannot hear
your words. Through the words of the lizard, men will die.” The
implication is, of course, that if the chameleon had arrived first,
men would have remained immortal.
Another type of myth of the origin of death compares the
mortality of man with the apparent revivification of reptiles and
crabs which cast their outer covering from time to time. One
such story from the Banks Islands tells of a time when human
beings never died; when they became old they cast their skins, as
snakes do, and so became young again. One day an old woman
went to a stream to cast her skin, and when she threw it into the
water it floated downstream, but caught on a stick. The woman,
who was now young and attractive again, went home, but when
she arrived her child did not recognize her. The child cried so
much that the woman went back to the stream, fished out her
old skin and put it on again. So that nowadays people become old
and die, and do not cast their skins and renew their youth as
reptiles appear to do.
These and several other types of myths of the origin of death 1
serve to make this phenomenon intelligible in moral or social
terms, so that the individual and social tragedy of death appears
less repellent than it would otherwise be.
1 Sec Frazer (2), Vol. I, pp. 59-86.
RELIGION AND MAGIC
374
Finally, we must refer to the importance of mythology in
validating ceremonial, many examples of which we saw in our
review of Karadjcri increase and initiation ceremonies. In other
primitive communities also we find ceremonial accounted for and
justified by myth in general terms if not specifically. In fact, the
actual character of the relation between mythology and cere-
monial is very flexible. Thus, among various tribes of the Gulf of
Papua we find almost identical ceremonies validated by entirely
different myths; in dealing with the Poro, we mentioned that
there are several legendary accounts of its origin; and in any
given mythological account of the origin of a social custom or
ceremony there are usually gaps, confusions and even contradic-
tions. The significance of mythology is not in the precision of
its content, but in its symbolic expression of social values relating
present-day practice and belief to events in the distant past, in
such a way that the full significance of neither can be understood
without reference to the other. Present-day custom, and its
binding emotional force, can only be understood in terms of its
mythological charter; while on the other hand, as Malinowski
says, “living, recurrent, regenerated myth is a constant by-
product of living faith which is in need of miracles; of sociological
status which demands precedent and example; of moral rule
which requires sanction ”. 1
j. The Social and Individual Significance of Magico-religious Belief
This brings us to a consideration of religious beliefs which refer
to the present-day operation of supernatural forces, distinct from,
though related to, mythological beliefs referring to the distant
past. This subject has not received the attention which it deserves
in recent studies of primitive religion. In the reaction against the
facile intellectualistic interpretations typified by the theories of
Tylor and Frazer, modern anthropologists have tended to concen-
trate on ritual activities and the social functions of magico-
religious institutions, to the exclusion of their dogmatic aspect.
The study of the latter, as Professor Firth has pointed out, is less
straightforward, and is made difficult by the absence in most
primitive religions of anything approximating to a creed . 1 Their
body of dogma must be inferred from observations of human
behaviour and verbal statements, which are often confusing and
contradictory.
1 Malinowski (5), Vol. I, p. 464. • Firth (14), p. 3.
SIGNIFICANCE OF MAGICO-RELIGIOUS BELIEF
375
These characteristics emerge from the fact that, in any given
culture, religious beliefs may be divided into three kinds. There
is a solid core of nuclear beliefs, never challenged by true believers ;
there is a set of ancillary beliefs or personal elaborations on the
central themes of religious dogma; and finally there are peripheral
beliefs which are even more flexible as a result of difficulty of
formulation or lack of certainty or conviction.
All of these types of belief serve, in Firth’s words, to “place the
facts of emotion within an intellectual system”. But the social, as
distinct from the individual, significance of belief varies from one
category to another. Nuclear beliefs are binding upon the whole
society, and embody interpretations of nature and statements of
social values to which all right-thinking individuals subscribe.
They thus bind together the community by imposing upon its
members a common set of intellectual interpretations and social
values. The more flexible and fluctuating beliefs in the second two
categories provide more scope for individual adjustment and
expression for particular temperamental types. Thus, while in
one sense religious belief is an integrating force in society, the ex-
pression of particular deviations from the normal in the more
variable types of belief may lead to a splitting of society and, at
more advanced stages of cultural development, to the conflicts of
religions and sects which contrast so markedly with the relative
homogeneity of religious belief in primitive society.
Among the most widespread types of religious belief found in
primitive society are those relating to the survival of the soul
after death. Some form or other of the belief in immortality is found
in all primitive societies, though its character and social signifi-
cance vary from one people to another. Sometimes it is only the
souls of people of rank which are believed to be immortal; some-
times the belief is not in perpetual existence after death, but in
survival for a period only; often the conception of survival takes
the form of a belief in reincarnation.
A common characteristic of beliefs in immortality is their
vagueness. While the belief in some form of survival is held by
everybody, there are apt to be considerable differences of opinion
among informants as to the actual conditions of the life after
death. In fact, it would probably be true to say that native peoples
are more interested in the social implications of death than in the
fate of the individual soul.
Beliefs in immortality, together with mortuary ritual and
S.A. 1—36
RELIGION AND MAGIC
376
mourning, are to be conceived as a human protest against the
social loss and disruption caused by a death as well as a negation
of individual annihilation; in fact, the former aspect tends to
receive more emphasis than the latter. This is particularly true in
societies which practise some form or other of ancestor worship,
or who look to the souls of the dead for help in day-to-day affairs
and succour in time of crisis. Here the continued social effective-
ness of the dead contrasts in a marked way with corresponding
beliefs in modern civilization, where the dead are not believed to
be able significantly to influence the fortunes of the living.
Before leaving the subject of magico-religious belief, we must
refer to certain communities in which beliefs in supernatural
power are generalized in a native term which has no English
equivalent. Such a concept is that of mana found in the religious
systems of Polynesia. Mana refers to supernatural power or extra-
ordinary efficacy derived from the gods and affecting the lives
and fortunes of human beings in different ways. A tool or weapon
is effective because it possesses mana\ temples, chiefs and sacred
objects derive their sanctity from the mana which is associated
with them and which makes dangerous any approach to them
except in a ritually correct way; chiefs owe their authority, and
craftsmen their success, to the mana which they possess. Clearly
such a term as mana, which has been variously rendered as mean-
ing strength, prestige, efficacy, skill or sanctity, cannot be simply
translated by any of these terms, particularly as it is used in
different senses in various contexts. But it is nevertheless pro-
foundly significant in religious belief as representing an embodi-
ment of supernatural power, respected in custom and sanctioned
in mythology.
Much the same applies to similar concepts among other primi-
tive communities. Thus the term mana also occurs in Melanesia,
but with slightly different implications owing to the lesser
elaboration of religious belief in this area, while in several Melan-
esian communities no such concept exists. Among many Amer-
indian tribes comparable beliefs are found, for example, the
beliefs in orenda , the basis of magical power among the Iroquois,
in wakonda or wakang among the Omaha, and in manito among
Algonquian tribes. As in the case of mana , these terms cannot be
simply translated into English — thus manito has been variously
translated as spirit, god, devil, demon, guardian spirit and fetish.
Thus it clearly differs from mana in its personal or anthropo-
SIGNIFICANCE OF MAGICO-RELIGIOUS BELIEF 377
morphic implications, but no simple comparisons can be insti-
tuted. Each of these embodiments of beliefs in the power of super-
natural agencies can only be understood in terms of the specific
magico-religious system and cultural context in which it occurs.
While we have recognized the importance of the dogmatic
aspect of magico-religious systems, we must not forget its ex-
pression in human conduct, whether in the stylized procedure of
ritual or in its more general ethical effects on human behaviour.
These two aspects of primitive religion and magic will occupy
our attention in the two succeeding sections.
6*. Magico-religious Ritual
The standardized types of behaviour which we call magico-
religious ritual may be of two kinds — bodily or verbal. Bodily
ritual consists of stylized behaviour which reflects in a symbolic
or dramatic way the result desired or the social attitudes expressed.
We have already referred to the former in connection with magical
ritual. In the case of forms of ritual which are religious, in
Malinowski’s sense, we find various types of social relationships
expressed in an appropriate way. Thus, initiation ceremonies
express dramatically the removal of the novice from society, his
admission to a new place in the social structure, and his final
return to the community as an adult.
The symbolic significance of ritual is perhaps best revealed in
mortuary ceremonial, and particularly in the widespread occur-
rence of weeping, self-mutilation and other violent expressions of
grief on the part of the mourners. Probably this does not bear any
direct relationship to the grief actually experienced. In the case of
near kin, it does as a rule involve genuine emotion, but in other
cases it appears to be mainly a ceremonial affair. Weeping has
been interpreted as a physiological reaction to a situation in
which emotional readjustment is necessary. It does not occur
only in connection with death, but also on such occasions as
initiations, marriages and the return of members to the com-
munity after an absence.
The practices connected with the disposal of the dead vary
greatly from one community to another. As to the psychology of
mortuary ritual, it frequently appears to involve an ambivalent
attitude — on the one hand an attitude of fear and horror towards
the corpse, coupled with a desire to dispose of it as completely as
possible; and on the other hand the desire to preserve and retain
378 RELIGION AND MAGIC
a close association with the body which has been an object of
affection during life. Cremation and mummification respectively
might be regarded as expressing the two opposite extremes of this
ambivalent attitude. A compromise is sometimes reached by dis-
posing of the corpse (for example, by burial) for a time, and there-
after recovering some special part of it, frequently the skull. This
may be kept or even worn as a treasured relic.
Magico-religious ritual must always be considered in relation
to the dogmatic beliefs with which it is correlated. This is particu-
larly important when it brings human beings into relationship
with gods, ancestor spirits or other supernatural beings. This
relationship is frequently interpreted in terms of current social
usage by a process which might be termed socio-religious parallelism .
Thus offerings, sacrifices and libations express in economic terms
the relation of human beings to supernatural beings who are
pleased by the same things as are ordinary living men; ancestor
worship reflects the social structure, in that each clan or family
group appeals to its own ancestors; gods and spirits are subject to
the same motives as human beings, and can be influenced in a
similar way by requests, adulation and economic advantages.
Verbal ritual consists of chants, spells, prayers and other sacred
formulae. These reflect the compulsive power of the word in reinforcing
belief, in achieving results and in inducing emotional attitudes.
This is probably founded on early experiences of childhood, when
individuals can in fact achieve results by uttering appropriate
words, that is, by determining the conduct of adults. Human
beings can be influenced by words, and so in native belief can
supernatural beings and agencies. It should be noted how
repetition, the use of secret or archaic words and formulae and
the reflection of the desired result in spell and prayer tend to
reinforce the belief in the compulsive power of language. This is a
very general feature of human psychology reflected in a wide
range of phenomena from primitive magical spells to the elaborate
techniques of modern advertising and propaganda.
We have so far dealt with forms of ritual which prescribe certain
types of bodily or verbal behaviour at specific times and in order
to achieve certain results or to express social attitudes. Contrasting
with these are practices which we might describe as negative
ritual, namely, rules which forbid certain types of speech or
behaviour. Such rules are commonly referred to as taboos.
The term taboo is derived from the Oceanic word tdpu or tdbu,
MAGICO-RELIGIOUS RITUAL
379
and refers to certain specific types of prohibition, violation of
which is believed automatically and by supernatural means to
produce undesirable consequences. It is important to emphasize
the automatic operation of taboos, which are distinct from beliefs
in supernatural punishments arising from the anger of ancestors
or other supernatural beings. In the words of the Ganda, “It is
the sin itself which kills”. The nearest parallel among ourselves
is to be found in certain beliefs of superstitious people, for example,
that to walk under a ladder will bring “bad luck”. But primitive
beliefs in the operation of taboo are far more significant socially ;
they are held by all members of the community; the consequences
of breach are more drastic and are usually more clearly defined
than in the term “bad luck”; such consequences include illness
or death for the offender or members of his family, failure in
economic or social undertakings and other types of misfortune.
As in the case of positive ritual, the proscriptions of taboo often
bear a symbolic relationship to the results believed to follow from
breach.
The specific types of behaviour forbidden by taboo among
various primitive peoples cover practically every act of which a
human being is capable. Food taboos, of which those connected
with totemism are the commonest though by no means the only
examples, may forbid the consumption of specific foods either
temporarily or permanently. Such taboos often reflect the social
structure, as when specific foods are reserved for men of rank, or
are taboo to women or to the young. Another widespread group
of taboos refer to sexual intercourse, as in those connected with the
prohibition of incest and the Bantu custom of forbidding sexual
intercourse between husband and wife while the latter is suckling
an infant. Taboos on sexual intercourse are often imposed upon
men in connection with dangerous or important social under-
takings such as hunting, warfare, economic enterprises and the
performance of magico-religious ceremonies.
Some taboos serve to protect the privileges of sacred persons or
the sanctity of temples or other sacred places, any unauthorized
approach to such persons or places being followed by dire conse-
quences for the offender.
The term “taboo” cannot be simply translated by any English
equivalent, since ideas of uncleanness, danger, sacredness and
prohibition may all enter into situations to which the term is
applied. Moreover, though natives are usually quite clear on the
RELIGION AND MAGIC
380
nature of the evil consequences which are believed to follow from
breach of taboo, they are generally vague as to how taboo operates.
They are not interested in metaphysical interpretations; the
really significant thing to them is that certain acts are followed
by unpleasant consequences. The acts forbidden are often of an
anti-social character, for example, adultery, theft, incest and
homicide. Beliefs in taboo thus serve a useful function in tending
to discourage such conduct, and in this respect they serve the
same function as beliefs in supernatural punishment through the
intervention of sentient supernatural agencies, to which we shall
refer in the next section.
7. The Ethical Implications of Religion and Magic
We have already encountered many examples of how magico-
religious beliefs and practices provide sanctions for tribal custom
in primitive society. Before going on to examine in detail the
operation of a specific magico-religious system, we must refer in
general terms to certain respects in which the influence of such a
system in primitive communities differs from that which exists in
our own society.
In the first place we have seen that primitive religious systems
lack any explicit statement of dogma embodied in a creed. They
likewise lack any comprehensive statements of moral injunctions,
comparable, for example, with the Ten Commandments. There are
certain cases of moral exhortations with a religious background,
as in the fono 1 of Tonga and Tikopia, which consists of a set of
moral precepts uttered by a chief to an assembly of the people.
But more commonly the influence of magico-religious systems on
human conduct in social affairs is not explicitly formulated,
though its operation can be clearly discerned.
The general lack of abstract moral formulations in primitive
religious systems is connected with the fact that the relations
between supernatural beings and those who worship them are
essentially personal. Wrongful acts may lead to supernatural
punishment, because they rouse the personal anger of spiritual
beings rather than because they are offences against a general
moral order, as in more developed religious systems. But the
effects on social order are very much the same, since the types of
1 The meaning of the term fono in the areas mentioned should not be confused
with the employment of the same word in Samoa to refer to political and ceremonial
assemblies of chiefs and other men of rank.
ETHICAL IMPLICATIONS 381
anti-social acts which anger the spirits tend to be of the same kind
as the “sins” of more advanced religions — adultery, murder, theft,
greed, sacrilege and so on. The relationships between human
beings and their deities, however, are based essentially on the
principle of reciprocity — the former should render homage and
follow lines of conduct pleasing to the latter, who in turn bestow
blessings on the righteous and visit punishment upon offenders.
If they fail to do this, active resentment may be aroused in the
worshippers, an attitude quite different from passive acceptance
of the Divine Will. We have seen how in the Tikopia dart match a
man does not hesitate to rebuke a god who has failed to respond
to the kava libation. An extreme but very illuminating example of
this attitude comes from the Society Islands, where ancestral
deities were sometimes discarded if they failed to discharge their
obligations. It sometimes happened that when members of a
family had suffered much from illness, and had appealed to their
ancestral god in vain, they would decide to cast him off and seek
protection from another deity. When this happened, the priest or
head of the family would go to the ancestral temple and address
the god as follows :
“There is casting off, I am casting thee off! Do not come in to
possess me again; let me not be a scat for thee again! Let me not
know thee again; do thou not know me again. Go and seek some
other medium for thyself in another home. Let it not be me, not
at all ! I am wearied of thee — I am terrified of thee ! I am expelling
thee. Return not again to me. Behold the family, they are stricken
with sickness; thou art taking them, thou art a terrible man-
devouring god!”
Though such action as this is exceptional, it does illustrate a
fundamental difference between such a religion as Christianity
and primitive magico-religious systems. The former stresses the
duty of men to do the Will of God, which should not be quest-
ioned ; the latter lay more emphasis on the means by which the
gods may be induced to do the will of the community.
Many magico-religious beliefs and practices support social
codes indirectly. For example, seasonal agricultural rites tend to
emphasize the essential economic activities of the seasonal round,
to concentrate attention on the due performance of necessary
work and to stimulate laggards to keep up with the rest of the
community. Ancestor worship supports parental authority, since
382 RELIGION AND MAGIC
a father will one day be an ancestor of his lineage and must
accordingly be treated with respect. Finally, beliefs in sorcery
tend to protect individual rights and privileges, since a man will
hesitate to do injury to another if he believes him to be armed
with a weapon of supernatural retaliation — in particular this
belief, as we have seen, often supports the political authority of
chiefs and headmen.
It may be said, then, that all magico-religious systems provide
sanctions for socially approved conduct, though the way in which
they do so varies from one community to another. In order to
gain an understanding of one such system, and of the integral
relation between magico-religious belief and social behaviour,
we shall in the next section refer briefly to Professor Evans-
Pritchard’s comprehensive description of witchcraft and related
phenomena among the Azande.
8. Witchcraft among the Azande
The Azande are an African people whose territory lies partly
in the Sudan, partly in the Belgian Congo and partly in French
Equatorial Africa. They are politically organized in several
autonomous kingdoms, each subdivided into provinces and dis-
tricts, and ruled by kinsmen of a royal clan. The traditional form
of settlement is the single homestead occupied by a polygamous
family. The relative isolation of each homestead may be partly
explained by the belief that witchcraft cannot operate at a
distance.
A witch, to the Azande, is a person who harms other people by
virtue of witchcraft, or mangu , a small ball of some hard substance
located inside the belly and inherited patrilineally. It acts
mysteriously; its “sour’ leaves the body of the witch and so
operates on the souls of inanimate objects or of organs of its
victim as to cause misfortune or even death. It is the major cause
of all misfortune and failure in Zandeland. If a man’s crops fail,
if he falls ill, if his house collapses and injures someone, he knows
that witchcraft is at work. This theory does not exclude apprecia-
tion of natural causation. The Zande know, for example, that
termites eat foundations of houses, causing them to collapse, but
that does not explain why someone should be injured by a
collapsing house. A boy who knocked his foot on a stump,
receiving a cut which festered, explained the matter thus: It was
not witchcraft which put the stump there, or which caused the
WITCHCRAFT AMONG THE AZANDE
383
cut — that was to be expected. It is not necessarily witchcraft which
makes a person stub his toes, for people are often careless. But,
he claimed, knocking a foot on a tree-stump does not usually
result in a festering sore, whereas in his particular case it had,
therefore it was due to witchcraft. Witchcraft explains why a
person is brought into relation with a set of circumstances in such
a way that he sustains injury.
Not every misfortune is allowed (by society as opposed to the
individual sufferer) to be explained in this way. When a techno-
logical, moral, legal or customary rule has been broken, any
resulting misfortune is due, not to witchcraft, but to inefficiency
or immorality. It is not witchcraft which makes a man commit
adultery, be found out and punished, but his own evil nature.
Thus the Zande belief in witchcraft is compatible with personal
responsibility. Any culture necessarily postulates, not only that its
standards of action ensure life, but also that obedience to them
guarantees a successful life. In spite of obedience, however,
failure and misfortune constantly occur. By accounting for this
unpleasant truth, belief in witchcraft validates the normal Zande
standards and by providing a protective course against witchcraft,
to be described below, Zande culture ensures individual adjust-
ment to misfortune with the minimum disturbance to society.
The belief is also compatible with personal interpretation of
events. The husbandman whose crops fail blames witchcraft,
more fortunate neighbours his incompetence or immorality. The
correct interpretation can be established by consulting an oracle.
A witch attacks only persons whom he or she dislikes, so if a
man wants to know who is bewitching him, he puts before the
oracle the names of his enemies, who he knows wish him harm.
Witchcraft is a function of misfortune and bad personal relations.
The range and character of a person’s social relationships deter-
mine who are his enemies, and hence whom he accuses of witch-
craft. Thus, a male commoner never accuses an aristocrat, or a
prince’s deputy, rarely a woman or a child, but usually a male
neighbour of equal status. Most adults have been accused of
witchcraft, but no stigma attaches to this. Nevertheless, the
Azande dislike being accused, and fear of it is a sanction for
sociable behaviour.
Action against witchcraft is socially controlled. If, for example,
a man falls ill, he summons witnesses and consults the oracle,
which exposes the witch responsible. The witch’s name is sent to
RELIGION AND MAGIC
384
the governor of the victim’s province, who consults his own
oracle. If the governor’s oracle does not confirm the accusation,
the victim must hold another seance — his oracle has been faulty.
If the governor’s oracle does confirm the victim’s, then the
accusation becomes a legal verdict. The governor sends the
verdict to the witch, who must ritually withdraw his witchcraft
and apologize for the trouble he is causing. The victim is in-
formed, and the incident closes. The victim either gets better,
proving the judgment of the oracle, or he does not, proving that
other witches are also at work. In the latter case he consults the
oracle again, and the procedure is re-enacted with reference to
another witch. Eventually he recovers — or dies. The procedure at
death is described later.
Oracles are the Azande’s main weapon against witchcraft.
They expose witches and divine the future presence of witchcraft.
There are several kinds of oracles, differing in degree of fallibility,
but all serve the same functions; only the poison oracle need be
described. It consists of a poison administered to a chicken and
questioned according to a stereotyped formula: its effect on the
chicken is unpredictable. Any adult male may consult the oracle,
on purchasing a dose of poison and obeying some preliminary
taboos, but two persons must be present at a seance, one to
administer poison and one to question it, while for important
seances witnesses must also be present. Women and children
cannot consult the oracle, but may obtain verdicts through a
husband or father. The questions take the following form: “If
X is a witch, poison oracle kill the fowl ; if X is innocent, poison
oracle spare the fowl.” The chicken either dies or lives, thus
answering yes or no.
The Azande do not manipulate the oracle so as to provide the
answers they want. That would merely be to cheat themselves
when it is vital for them to obtain accurate information on witches
and witchcraft. Faith in its efficacy is sustained, because the
information it provides cannot be empirically verified and because
its advice is accepted and acted upon. Azande do not, for example,
ask it if a certain plot of land will grow good crops, for they know
which plots grow good crops. They ask the oracle whether, if
crops are planted in a certain plot, they will fail through witch-
craft* If the oracle replies in the affirmative, then they do not
plant crops in that plot (unless a later consultation advises that
the danger is over) ; hence they remain ignorant of what would
WITCHCRAFT AMONG THE AZANDE 385
have happened had they disregarded its advice. If the oracle
replies “No”, and the plot is cultivated and yet the crops fail,
several beliefs may be invoked to safeguard faith in the oracle.
There may have been no danger at the time the oracle was
consulted, or a moral rule may have been broken since. Finally,
witchcraft itself is able to damage the oracle, so that it answers
incorrectly. Witchcraft and oracles are complementary, belief in
one reinforces faith in the other.
Faith is also sustained by the oracle’s connection with the
rulers. The oracles of the kings and princes are ultimately infall-
ible. To question their verdicts is to question political authority
itself, a crime punishable at law. The oracle thus buttresses and is
buttressed by political authority. It also enhances the authority
of the head of the household, since its members can obtain advice
only through him. Oracle verdicts have a compulsive force apart
from the exposure of witches. A man may try to evade an obliga-
tion by saying (without consulting it) that his oracle warned him
against it, but if he procrastinates too long, persons interested in
the fulfilment of the obligation will consult their own oracle, a
favourable verdict from which can be used in a law-court to
compel the man to carry out his duties. Oracle verdicts are also
used in court in cases of adultery.
Another weapon against witchcraft is the witch doctor, who
by the aid of medicines which he swallows can divine witchcraft
and by magical surgery and medicine can cure the illnesses which
it causes. Only men are doctors, and become so by paying an
established practitioner to teach them the secret skills of the craft,
swearing a vow of secrecy, and undergoing a painful initiation. A
doctor’s seance is a communal entertainment, directed by up
to a dozen doctors, and paid for by a wealthy man to whose
prestige it redounds. In the course of the seance, drumming,
music, dancing and gashing of the body may induce in the
doctors a state of dissociation. In this condition they hint that
members of the audience are witches, and proceed to banish
witchcraft from the community. Doctors are not, however, as
effective as oracles. Their hints have no legal standing, and they
have neither authority nor high prestige. One of their favourite
devices in curing illness is to conceal a small splinter of bone in the
mouth, suck the afflicted part of the patient’s body, and claim to
have extracted the splinter, which is believed to cause pain. The
Azande know that with some doctors this is merely a trick, and
386 RELIGION AND MAGIC
are sceptical of the powers of these particular doctors, but firmly
believe that other, better, doctors can cure in this manner.
Trickery can only be recognized as such, but scepticism in regard
to particular doctors is an essential element in faith in witch
doctoring.
The magic of witch doctors is only a part of the battery of rites
and medicines available to the Azandc. Zande magic differs from
Melanesian magic in that there are few communal rites, in the
privacy of its use, and in that medicines and not spells are its
effective agent. Nevertheless, it is used for the same object — to
ensure success where success is endangered by factors beyond
control by the Azande. In agriculture, in love, in war, the Azande
seek success through magic. Since witchcraft is the main cause of
failure, most magic is bound up with protection against, or de-
struction of, witchcraft. Witchcraft, oracles and magic are inter-
dependent components of a coherent and logically consistent
system of behaviour and beliefs. Witchcraft endangers success,
oracles disclose its presence, magic counteracts it.
There is an important distinction between two types of Zande
magic, namely, good and evil magic (sorcery). The distinction is
that sorcery flouts moral and legal rules, whereas good magic
does not, and is often a sanction for obedience to them. Both may
be used to destroy persons, but whereas to use magic to kill a law-
abiding citizen is sorcery, a criminal offence, to use magic to
punish a thief is approved; while to use vengeance magic to kill a
witch who has killed one’s kinsman is obligatory. What sanctions
have the Azande to ensure that no one will use good but harmful
magic for illegal purposes? The sanction is a belief that good
destructive magic is by its very nature morally discriminating,
will only attack criminals, and if wrongly used will kill the user
himself. Good magic is only employed against unknown persons;
if, for example, a thief is known, he is tried in court. Sorcery is
directed at specific persons, with intent to kill, hence is evil,
and a sorcerer would be killed on sight. There are very few
sorcerers.
There is a wide range of plants providing the Azande with
medicines. The plants themselves have no magic virtue; the
extracts and concoctions from them acquire magic power because
the Azande make them according to formulas which give them
magical power. Magic is man-made. Anyone can acquire the
knowledge of how to make medicines either by way of gifts from
WITCHCRAFT AMONG THE AZANDE 387
kinsmen or by buying it, but naturally the types of activity which
a person engages in most, and his wealth, determine the types
and amount of magic he will use. A prince will use much magic to
attract followers, a husbandman to grow crops, a youth to gain
success in amorous adventures. Spells and rites are often perfunc-
torily performed, consisting often simply of an order to “the
soul” of the medicine to achieve the result desired. There are few
myths accounting for Zande magic, but current “success stories”
affirming its power are common everyday talk. If pressed to
account for the origin of many medicines, the Azande attribute
it vaguely to Mbori, the Supreme Being.
This brief account of some Azande supernatural beliefs and
practices may give rise to two misconceptions. The first, that the
Azande are preoccupied with the supernatural. This is not so.
The greater part of their time is devoted to mundane affairs.
Small failures and misfortunes do not occasion an oracle con-
sultation, and, as they point out, it is not worth while finding out
who bewitched you once your temporary misfortune has passed.
The second, that all Azande would think alike in any one situa-
tion into which the supernatural enters. This also is not the case.
Some men have more faith than others in particular medicines
and witch doctors, and we have seen how their beliefs in witch-
craft allow scope for individual interpretation of events. In any
situation each person selects and uses the concepts and techniques
most useful to himself.
There is one situation in which certain beliefs and actions are
obligatory, and in which the interrelations between witchcraft,
oracles and magic are most clearly seen. It is axiomatic that the
death of a kinsman is always due to witchcraft, or occasionally to
sorcery. When a man dies, his kinsmen ask the oracle to select two
persons to avenge him, one to observe stringent sex and food
taboos, and one to provide vengeance magic to kill the unknown
witch. The accurate, honourable and unfailing vengeance magic
is set in motion. Sooner or later someone else in the neighbour-
hood dies. The oracle is asked whether this person was the guilty
one. Sooner or later the oracle will give an affirmative reply to
some recently dead neighbour’s name. This answer must be
corroborated by a governor’s oracle, and this invariably occurs
sooner or later. The kinsmen cease mourning and rejoice. The
magic has done its work, and the final justice of the universe has
been triumphantly vindicated.
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RELIGION AND MAGIC
g. The Validation of Magico-religious Beliefs
Our review of the interrelationships of belief, ritual and ethics
in primitive society generally, and with more detailed reference to
a particular magico-religious system, reveals how far the modern
anthropologist’s approach to primitive beliefs differs from that
which inspired the earlier theories mentioned at the beginning of
this chapter. Considered as scientific interpretations or even as
metaphysical speculations, the beliefs of primitive man do not
command our respect. This is why they have so often been inter-
preted as the result of faulty logic, or even, as by Levy Bruhl, as
due to a “pre-logical mentality” which is incapable of the
ordinary processes of reasoning known to civilized man. Some
support appears to be given to this view by the tenacity with
which primitive peoples cling to their “superstitions” in the face
of what appear to us to be convincing demonstrations of their
falsity.
A study of the social implications of magico-religious beliefs,
however, shifts the emphasis away from the purely intellectual
assessment of their logical bases. We find that such beliefs are
not maintained merely by illogicality, ignorance of cause and
effect, or blind faith in tradition, but by positive factors which
validate them, that is, make them convincing, effective and
acceptable to the human beings who hold them. Among these
factors of validation are the following:
(a) The cultural limitations of knowledge in backward com-
munities make plausible the magico-religious theories of success
and failure. For example, the absence of scientific knowledge
about disease does not mean that it is left unexplained; it is inter-
preted in terms of the anger of ancestors, breach of taboo, witch-
craft, or the machinations of sorcerers.
(b) Early training in magico-religious beliefs leads them to be
accepted as part of the whole cultural heritage. In particular we
find that myths, legends, tales of the achievements of culture
heroes and of famous magicians living and dead, reinforce belief
in individuals with special powers and in supernatural agencies
generally. What has once by general assent been effective is still
effective; the forces which once produced disaster or outstanding
success can still produce them.
(c) Magic is sometimes supported by trickery, for example, in
the production of blood by Eskimo magicians at the annual
VALIDATION OF MAGICO-RELIGIOUS BELIEFS 389
expulsion of Sedna, or the extraction of foreign substances from
the body of a sick man by Australian medicine men.
(d) The conditions under which activities arc carried out are
often such that beliefs are reinforced. For example, Australian
totemic ceremonies are performed at places where the species is
usually plentiful and at the time of the year when it normally
becomes abundant, so that increase of the species does in fact
generally follow the performance of rites, though not for the
reasons given by the natives.
(1 e ) Positive cases receive more attention than negative,
successes more emphasis than failures, just as they do, for example,
in popular anecdotes about the prophetic significance of dreams
among ourselves.
(f) Many magical practices are secret, and it is therefore
impossible to say whether they have been carried out in any given
instance. What actually occur are cases of illness or other mis-
fortunes, and these are explained retrospectively by postulating
sorcery. This can never be proved or disproved, and an important
ethnographic problem is whether many practices of black magic
are ever in fact carried out. Often, as we have seen, they are
obviously figments of the imagination, and from their very nature
can never have occurred.
(g) The reputation and status of performers, who are often
also expert in practical affairs, the taboos which they observe, the
special and often esoteric language which they employ, and their
use of substances of magical potency, may all serve to reinforce
beliefs in their supernatural powers. In many cases their be-
haviour is abnormal and therefore impressive as suggesting that
powers and forces beyond the ordinary experience of mankind
are at work. In many of the phenomena of inspiration, possession
and divination, the special qualities of neurotic or eccentric
individuals are employed, these qualities being interpreted as
manifestations of supernatural agencies.
(A) Explanations of failure form a most important part of the
ideology of the supernatural among primitive peoples. As we
have said above, positive cases receive more attention than
negative. But when magico-religious techniques demonstrably
fail to achieve their objective, this is never taken to indicate their
futility. On the contrary, a variety of explanations are produced.
Either the rites have not been properly carried out, or taboos
have been neglected, or counter-magic has been performed, or
RELIGION AND MAGIC
390
‘‘divine option” has been exercised. An example of the last of
these is found among those peoples who believe that illness is
caused by the anger of ancestral spirits. When this occurs, the
ancestors may forgive after supplication or may remain adamant,
the former explaining recovery and the latter a fatal termination of
the illness. Whatever the result, ancestral power is not questioned.
Much the same applies to beliefs in counter-magic, since no one
can be really sure whether it has or has not in fact been carried
out. The outcome is determined by a battle of forces on the super-
natural plane, one or other being successful. The result, whatever
it is, still supports belief in the power of supernatural agencies.
(i) Some beliefs connected with sorcery postulate “delayed
action”. It is held that the victim will sooner or later become ill or
die, a statement which cannot be challenged.
We have mentioned some of the mechanisms by which magico-
religious beliefs are validated. Their incidence and importance
naturally vary greatly from one primitive community to another.
But in every magico-religious system the context of belief ensures
that it shall be acceptable and satisfying to the human beings
concerned. In view of what has been said, we are no longer sur-
prised at the tenacity of magico-religious beliefs, or at the way in
which the native clings to his “superstitions” in the face of preach-
ing by missionaries, solemn demonstration and argument by
Government officials and ridicule by other Europeans.
10. Religion and Human Welfare
Throughout our discussion of magico-religious beliefs and
practices, we have emphasized their culturally useful functions.
But it is also necessary to question how far beliefs in supernatural
causation prevent natives from experimenting with new practical
measures. For example, Professor Firth has suggested that the
Tikopia might have experimented with irrigation as a safeguard
against drought if they did not believe that rain is controlled by
special deities . 1 In the wider field of human experience the role of
beliefs in supernatural forces in inhibiting material progress has
been stressed by many philosophers and publicists. It is not
necessary to go to primitive society for illustrations. Consider, for
example, the following inscription from the churchyard at Silk-
stone, Yorkshire, commemorating the death in a mine disaster of
twenty-six children, aged between seven and fifteen:
1 Firth (10), pp. 89-91.
RELIGION AND HUMAN WELFARE 391
“This monument was erected to perpetuate the remembrance
of an awful Visitation of the Almighty which took place in this
Parish on the fourth day of July, 1838. On that eventful day the
Lord sent forth his thunder, lightning, hail and rain, carrying
devastation before them and by a sudden eruption of water into
the Coalpits of R. C. Clarke, Esq., twenty-six human beings
whose names are recorded here were suddenly summoned to
appear before their Maker.
“Reader remember! Every neglected call of God will appear
against thee at the Day of Judgment.
“Let this solemn warning then sink deep into thy heart, and so
prepare thee that the Lord when he cometh may find thee
watching.”
It is impossible to say how far beliefs such as those reflected in
the above text delayed the introduction of safety precautions in
mines. It is, however, certain that they played an important part
in maintaining social codes and in reconciling human beings to
disaster. As in primitive magico-religious systems, human mis-
fortune was exploited in the interests of social morality and human
contentment. The general question whether the social advantages
of such systems are offset by their disadvantages is one which
cannot perhaps be answered entirely in terms of an empirical
examination of their contributions to human happiness or
misery. Many would hold that the question involves metaphysical
premises which lie beyond the province of science.
//. Bibliographical Commentary
The theories of Tylor, Frazer and Durkheim have been selected
for special treatment, and references have been provided in the
text. The theory of “pre-logical mentality” is stated in Levy
Bruhl (1 and 2), and though this view is not acceptable nowadays,
it is of interest from the point of view of the history of theories of
primitive religion and magic. Other landmarks in this field are
Lang, Magic and Religion and The Making of Religion ; Robertson
Smith, The Early Religion of the Semites ; Marett, The Threshold of
Religion , and Lowie, Primitive Religion. Of the many works by Sir
James Frazer, The Devil's Advocate is undoubtedly the best by
modern standards and provides many illustrations of the role of
“superstition” in supporting cultural standards.
As regards more modern theories of primitive religion and
s.a. 1 --27
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RELIGION AND MAGIC
magic, that of Malinowski is expounded in Malinowski (12),
critical comments on which are presented in Radcliffe-Brown (8) .
For an attempt to reconcile the two points of view, see Homans
(1). For an elaboration of the theoretical point of view adopted in
the present chapter, together with a description of the place of
magico-religious beliefs and practices in various Polynesian
cultures, see Piddington (4). The material contained in Section 8
of the present chapter is taken from an outstanding contribution
to the ethnography of magico-religious institutions, namely,
Evans-Pritchard (2). A valuable comparative study of magic in
the Trobriand Islands and among the Azande is contained in
Evans-Pritchard (8). On the psychological significance of re-
ligious belief see Firth (14) and for a comparative study of taboo
consult Webster (1).
Descriptions of magico-religious beliefs and practices in relation
to social life are contained in all good ethnographic records.
Among those in which they receive special attention may be cited
Firth (11), Fortune (1 and 2), Hogbin (2 and 3), Kuper (1),
Nadel (1), and Strehlow (1).
CHAPTER XI
THE NATIVE AND OURSELVES
i. The Savage in Fancy Dress
We have now completed our survey of some of the more important
cultural activities of primitive peoples. The understanding which
we have gained enables us to dispose of certain popular miscon-
ceptions. We have seen many times how untrained ethnographers
and theorists who had never seen a native have completely mis-
interpreted the facts of primitive life and have, as it were, arrayed
the savage in fancy dress, making him appear as a weird and
exotic being quite distinct from ourselves and characterized by
motives and ways of thought quite incommensurable with our
own. A scientific study of primitive culture, on the other hand,
enables us to see him as a human being like ourselves, whose
apparently irrational, conventional or brutal behaviour can be
understood in terms of the cultural context in which he lives, from
which he derives his knowledge of the world and his system of
values, and on which he depends for everything which makes life
worth living for him.
Thus we have disposed of the “noble savage”, that amiable
imbecile who meanders through the ethnological writings of
Elliot Smith. We have seen that primitive man is upon occasion
aggressive, greedy and even disloyal to the cultural standards by
which he lives. We have seen that his economic life is dominated,
not by a “communistic group sentiment”, but by a complex of
motives in which self-interest, personal sentiment, respect for
tradition and fear of supernatural sanctions are inextricably
interwoven.
This iijiplies that primitive man is also capable of altruism, of
self-sacrifice in the interest of those he loves, and of adherence to
the normative standards of his culture. We have thus also disposed
of the “savage savage”, described by one New Guinea missionary
as “guided in his conduct by nothing but his instincts and pro-
pensities, and governed by his unchecked passions . . . lawless,
inhuman and savage”. This conception of primitive man is much
393
THE NATIVE AND OURSELVES
394
more prevalent than the other, and many “barbarous” customs
such as cannibalism and infanticide have been cited in support
of it. Though most of these customs are of minor sociological
importance, we may refer briefly to some of them.
2. Barbarous Customs
The incidence and importance of cannibalism have been greatly
exaggerated in popular thought. Though it occurs sporadically
throughout the world, the majority of primitive peoples are not
cannibals, and most of the remainder eat human flesh only
occasionally. The motive is only very rarely a crude appetite for
human flesh as a delicacy. Sometimes it is a matter of necessity as
among the Eskimo, where, as we have seen, some individuals were
occasionally eaten in order that the remainder of the community
might survive. Elsewhere, slain enemies are the most common
victims, and such customs can frequently be interpreted as a
dramatic expression of revenge, or in terms of the magico-religious
belief that by the eating of a dead warrior his physical prowess
and courage may be acquired by the consumer. This was the case
among many Amerindian tribes, who scorned to eat human flesh
other than that of valiant warriors. In other communities, again,
cannibalism is connected with the institution of human sacrifice
and is imposed as an obligation by magico-religious belief. An
entirely different type of cannibalism is found among peoples who
eat the flesh of their dead kinsfolk as part of mourning ritual
which affirms the continued association between the living and
the dead. Finally, in primitive societies in which slavery exists,
we sometimes find that slaves are eaten, as among certain tribes
of the north-west coast of America. It is impossible to assess the
frequency of such practices, but it may be inferred that they were
to some extent limited by practical if not by humanitarian con-
siderations. You cannot have your slave and eat him.
The sporadic custom of infanticide is another feature of certain
primitive cultures which has often shocked the European. Some-
times, like cannibalism, it is a necessity imposed by inadequacy
of the food supply, the alternative to it being famine. The
Tikopia, for example, are keenly conscious of the need to maintain
a balance between population and food resources, and one of the
means which they adopt to achieve this is infanticide. In some
communities female infants are killed more frequently than males
because of their lesser economic value or social prestige. In other
BARBAROUS CUSTOMS 395
communities male infants may be killed for political reasons, for
example, the offspring of the inferior wives of chiefs whose survival
might lead to conflicts over succession. Sometimes the death of
one or other parent, particularly of the mother in childbirth, or
the birth of illegitimate children, are reasons for infanticide. We
can see how such practices are related to the importance of the
family as the basic unit of kinship structure — in some communi-
ties this is expressed in the feeling that a child who lacks one or
other parent should not be allowed to survive. In an entirely
different category belong the Bantu practices connected with the
killing of twins and abnormal children, the magico-religious basis
of which we already know.
The occasional occurrence of infanticide does not indicate that
primitive peoples are incapable of parental affection. On the
contrary, most married people want to have children, and soon
become fond of them when they are allowed to live. In individual
cases motives of shame or laziness may lead to infanticide as they
do occasionally among ourselves. But in the vast majority of cases
the custom is related to such specific economic, political and
magico-religious considerations as we have mentioned. In con-
clusion, it should be pointed out that the high rate of infant
mortality in most primitive societies means that infanticide
appears as less of an interference with the normal course of nature
than in more advanced societies where it is expected that the vast
majority of infants will survive.
Again, head-hunting, practised by several peoples of Malaysia
and Melanesia, has, like the Amerindian practice of scalping,
excited the horror of Europeans. But we invariably find that such
customs are rooted in a social system in which the taking of a
human head is a necessary step in attaining adult status, in
proving manhood, or in attaining prestige within the community.
We may condemn such systems of moral values as undesirable.
We cannot blame individuals or communities for living by the
normative standards of the culture into which they happen to be
born.
Oddly enough, the practices connected with primitive warfare
have often been cited in indictments of the savage. Wherever
European administration has penetrated, attempts have been
made to eradicate primitive forms of armed conflict; and a pur-
suit which among ourselves has been regarded for centuries as an
honourable profession and a legitimate testing ground for human
THE NATIVE AND OURSELVES
396
courage has been condemned and visited with drastic punishments.
A scientific and comparative study of warfare does not merely
consist of assessing whether the refined forms of torture which the
Society Islanders and the Natchez inflicted on their enemies were
more horrible than the effects of an atomic bomb. The socio-
logical task is to discern the entirely different characteristics of
warfare among various human communities. Thus, in Australia
the commonest causes of wars between hordes are to be found in
the abduction of women and in beliefs in sorcery which, after an
inquest to determine guilt, may lead to an avenging expedition.
Wars for booty or territorial conquest are unknown in Australia,
the former because of the poverty of material culture, and the
latter because of the close association, both economic and magico-
religious, of every aborigine with his own horde territory.
Warfare in Australia, based as it is on magico-religious beliefs
and socio-sexual jealousy, and lacking altogether any traditions
of martial prowess as an end in itself, differs profoundly from the
cattle-raiding practised as a lucrative pursuit and honourable
adventure by many African pastoralists. In a different category
again must be placed wars for the conquest of agricultural lands
as found among many Polynesian communities. Here, too,
motives of economic gain and prestige were closely interwoven.
But a comparative study of Polynesian communities sheds much
light on the alleged inevitability of war and its supposed basis in
human aggressiveness or a mystical entity called “the tribal
spirit ”. 1 In the major island groups of Polynesia, with their
elaborate political organizations and dynasties of ruling chiefs,
warfare was common. But in the smaller islands there was con-
siderable variability. In Manihiki and Rakahanga there were
occasional family quarrels, but nothing which could properly be
called warfare. In Mangaia there were constant and bitter wars
over land. The natives of the former islands had a special official,
the tuha whenua or land distributor, whose function was to forestall
quarrels over land. In Mangaia the ownership of land was re-
solved upon the battlefield. In Tikopia, again, a well-organized
system of land tenure, based largely upon the authority of the
chiefs, and thus integrated with a closely knit social and political
structure, as well as the practices of birth control and infanticide,
have prevented regular conflict.
1 Cf. my controversy with Sir Arthur Keith on this point, Man, Vol. XL, No®. 57,
76 and 122.
BARBAROUS CUSTOMS
397
Our treatment of these various customs indicates that such
terms as “infanticide” or “warfare” do not correspond to anthro-
pological entities, much less are they manifestations of specific
types of character or of “human nature”. They are merely useful
labels for certain broadly and superficially similar types of human
behaviour. In various communities we find different institutional
settings and different constellations of human beliefs and motives
in the context of which such practices as warfare and infanticide
must be considered. Whatever our ultimate moral judgment may
be, such an approach makes the customs we have mentioned at
least comprehensible in terms of the motives of human beings
reared in a cultural environment entirely different from our own.
3. Savage Superstition
Our discussion of religion and magic has emancipated us from
the popular belief that the native is irrational, that he is in all
matters a slave to his superstitions, and that he feels himself beset
on every side by terrifying supernatural forces. As regards the last
of these fallacies, the true position has been admirably stated by
Dr. Hogbin with reference to certain magico-religious beliefs in
Ontong Java: “It has often been said that natives live in a con-
stant state of dread of supernatural forces, which prevents them
from committing the actions we have called sins. As a matter of
fact, no natives do live in such a state of terror. The Ontong
Javanese think no more of the kipua (ancestor spirits) than we do
of divine punishment or of criminal procedure. At times they are
afraid, just as Europeans sometimes fear the arm of the law or the
Last Judgment, but such moments are comparatively rare .” 1
To this statement it should perhaps be added that in view of the
inadequacy of technical, medical and scientific knowledge in
primitive society, the field of magico-religious belief is in general
wider than among ourselves. Since more events are incalculable
and uncontrollable, the incidence of magico-religious practices is
greater. In our own history, it has been the growth of scientific
knowledge and techniques which has accounted largely for the
attenuation of magical practices. Faced with, say, a diphtheria
epidemic, we now have our children immunized instead of burn-
ing some unfortunate old hag at the stake as did our ancestors not
so many centuries ago. But our ancestors were not obsessed by the
fear of witchcraft, any more than are primitive peoples. One
1 Hogbin (2), p. 162.
398 THE NATIVE AND OURSELVES
might as well say that modern parents live in a constant state of
dread that their children will contract some disease with which
medical science will be unable to cope.
4. Race and Culture
In our first chapter we distinguished between race, which is a
subject of study in physical anthropology, and culture, which is
our own subject-matter. These two concepts arc often confused.
For example, we are apt to meet such statements as: “The
Polynesians were a warlike race”. As we have seen in Section 2,
whether any particular group of human beings of Polynesian race
were warlike or not depended upon their culture; for example,
whether they lived in the Society Islands or in Tikopia. Therefore,
though the study of race is not within our province, we must say a
word or two about what we mean by the term, and more im-
portant still what we do not mean by it.
It is obvious that the physical differences which are called
“racial” exist, and are transmitted by heredity . 1 To realize this
one has only to compare the ape-like lips of the European with the
corresponding features of the African negro; and to note that
the descendants of negroes in the New World continue (apart
from racial mixture) to exhibit the same characteristics as their
ancestors, while the lips of generations of Europeans born in
Africa continue to resemble those of the chimpanzee. Thus, when
groups of human beings possessing certain physical character-
istics interbreed, these characteristics tend to be transmitted from
one generation to the next, and groups of people sharing such
characteristics may be loosely referred to as a race. But owing to
centuries of migration and interbreeding throughout the world,
there is practically no such thing as a pure race. For example, the
writer of this book and most of its readers belong to a mongrel
stock, contrasting with the relatively pure racial stock of the
Australian aborigines who have been isolated for many centuries
from extensive contacts with other peoples.
But apart from purely scientific studies in comparative somatol-
ogy and human genetics, which are concerned with such prob-
lems, theories of race play a far more significant part in human
relationships through the tendency to assume that mental differ-
1 It should be noted that certain researches, such as those recorded in Shapiro (1),
seem to indicate that the genetic characteristics of race are by no means so stable as
was previously supposed.
RACE AND CULTURE
399
ences, whether in temperament or intelligence, are associated
with the physical traits which we call racial. There is no evidence
for this assumption, which it is at present impossible either to
prove or to disprove. It is possible, for example, that the average
Australian aborigine may be slightly more intelligent than the
average European or Chinese. But it is impossible to say whether
this is so or not. As we shall see in dealing with mental tests in
Volume II, the necessary instruments and techniques of measure-
ment simply do not exist. In the words of an eminent biologist:
“I do not hesitate to say that all existing and genuine scientific
knowledge about the way in which the physical characteristics of
human communities are related to their cultural capabilities can
be written out on the back of a postage stamp.” 1
Why, then, do we find the beliefs in racial differences in mental-
ity to which we have referred ? They have been aptly described
by Professor Ashlcy-Montagu as “man’s most dangerous myth”.
This is not merely a striking metaphor. It is a profound socio-
logical truth. As with the myths of primitive peoples reviewed in
this book, the importance of beliefs in racial differences in mental
capacity lies, not in their correspondence with established fact,
which is negligible. It lies in the way in which they act as a
charter for human conduct, or perhaps it would be better to say
inhuman conduct. They support policies of racial segregation and
discrimination, and they serve as a charter for the economic
exploitation of one race by another.
5. The “ Practical Man ”
The doctrine of racial inequality finds expression, not only in
the legal codes of South Africa and certain southern states of the
U.S.A. In a more or less explicit form it is an essential part of the
creed of the self-styled “practical man”, whom one may meet in
any far-flung outpost of Empire where Europeans arc in contact
with native peoples. He is usually a trader or employer of native
labour. 2 He has perhaps never spent more than a few hours at a
time in a native village, but he readily asserts that his years of
residence in the country give him a better knowledge of the
1 Hogben, “Race and Prejudice,” in Dangerous Thoughts , p. 47. This essay should
be read by all those who still have a lingering suspicion that there might be some
evidence for popular theories about racial differences in mentality.
* I wish explicitly to exclude from the following strictures those few individual
employers and traders who through inherent intellectual honesty or human sym-
pathy are able to think beyond the mythology of their class, as I also exclude the vast
majority of administrators and missionaries.
THE NATIVE AND OURSELVES
400
natives than can be acquired by the professional anthropologist,
whom he dismisses as a “theorist”. An analogy with this view
would be the statement that an attendant who has spent twenty
years of his life scrubbing out the wards of a hospital knows more of
the treatment of disease than a newly qualified medical practitioner.
This type of practical man has a profound contempt for the
mentality of the native, often expressed in the assertion that the
native is a child and must be treated as such. This view is none the
less wrong because it is sometimes not unkindly expressed. It is
one of those popular fallacies which are produced by complete
misunderstanding of the native point of view. The native some-
times appears to behave as a child because he is unfamiliar with
our cultural material, with our feelings and standards of conduct,
as we are with his. After all, most European adults handling chop-
sticks look very much like children handling a knife and fork, and
for the same reason — they have not the necessary culturally
acquired skill. But a Chinese would hardly be justified in saying
that the manual dexterity of a European is like that of a child.
And what can be said of manual dexterity is even more true of
behaviour patterns such as manners, sentiments and the nuances
of emotional response peculiar to each culture.
The native is a highly specialized adult with his own cultural
equipment, which incidentally makes us look very foolish to him
at times. If he appears gauche, obstinate, stupid or capricious, it
is not for the same reason as with a child. A child has only a very
imperfect understanding of any cultural values and ways of
behaving. The native has a cultural equipment of his own, and when
his behaviour seems to be queer, foolish and naive, the European
observer is more likely to be right if he attributes this to his own
ignorance than if he assumes that “the native is like a child”.
Another favourite assertion of the practical man is that the
native is lazy. We know enough of the motives in productive
effort to realize that, within the context of primitive economic
institutions, this is not true. But these institutions differ markedly
from our own, particularly in their seasonal rhythm. They call
for periods of intensive effort, alternating with periods of leisure,
festivities and ceremonial. This contrasts with our own conception
of a regular daily routine of work throughout the year. There is,
moreover, little stress upon promptness and a regular time-table
of work. Whether a party of hunters in Australia sets out at dawn
or two hours later does not matter very much. There is no need
THE “PRACTICAL MAN”
401
for the alarm-clock mentality which characterizes our own con-
ception of work. Moreover, the tasks which the native carries
out for his European employer are usually dull and menial
ones, with poor pay and very little prospect of promotion.
One is not surprised that, for example in New Guinea before the
war, native indentured labourers were not enthusiastic about
cutting grass on coco-nut plantations with a piece of hoop-iron
for the princely reward of 10 s. per month.
The most important consideration, however, is qualitative and
not quantitative. The work which the native does for the Euro-
pean has none of the stimulating and exciting cultural context of
productive effort under primitive conditions, and fails to provide
the incentives to effort with which we are familiar. The native,
then, is only lazy with reference to superimposed goals, motives
and traditional standards of economic behaviour which are
peculiar to European civilization.
Having affirmed that the native is superstitious, irrational, lazy
and of childish mentality, the “practical man” will often go on to
explain that he nevertheless possesses extraordinary and mysteri-
ous psychic powers such as a gift for telepathy or capacity to
predict events. Now modern experimental psychology has amply
demonstrated, in the case of some European subjects at least, the
existence of extra-sensory perception, even though both descrip-
tively and theoretically this is a relatively new field in which few
very definite conclusions have been reached. Granted the exist-
ence of what psychologists call the “y” factor in human personal-
ity, it is possible that there are racial variations in this respect.
But, as with other mental traits, there is no scientific evidence on
this point. In the present state of our knowledge, all we can do is
to exercise extreme caution in accepting the anecdotes which are
told of the alleged psychic powers of natives, since the events
described in them are in many cases at least capable of much
more simple explanations. The writer was once sitting at dusk
with a group of white people on a verandah in north-western
Australia. Two or three native servants were sitting nearby, and
during a pause in the conversation one native woman remarked
with reference to one of the white women present: “I think Missis
go inside soon”. This astounded the white woman, who said after-
wards that this was exactly the thought which was passing through
her mind at the time. It is all too easy to attribute such incidents
to supernormal psychic powers. Actually, as subsequent enquiries
THE NATIVE AND OURSELVES
402
revealed, the native girl had simply noticed that the white woman
had started to swat mosquitoes which were beginning to appear,
and, knowing the reaction of Europeans to these insects, had
accurately inferred her thoughts and predicted her behaviour.
When the practical man quotes such incidents in support of the
theory of native psychic powers, the interesting thing is not that
he is or may be mistaken, but that his interpretation is related to
his contempt for the other mental capabilities of native peoples.
It is precisely because he underestimates their capacity for
ordinary commonsense observation and their shrewd knowledge
of the ways of white people that he feels called upon to assume
mysterious psychic powers to account for manifestations of ordin-
ary human intelligence.
6. The Place of Social Anthropology in Modern Culture
Like other sciences, perhaps more than other sciences, social
anthropology has a part to play in the rational adjustment of
present-day humanity to the chaotic world in which it finds itself.
It has obvious practical implications in the field of culture contact
and in the solution of the problems raised by the impact of modern
civilization upon primitive peoples, problems with which we shall
deal in Volume II. But these more obvious practical applications
of our science do not exhaust its contribution to human welfare.
Even a limited survey of primitive society serves indirectly to
widen our conception of our place in the universe in which we
live. The following statement expresses this point of view:
“Though it may be given to us for a moment to enter into the
soul of a savage and through his eyes to look at the outer world
and feel ourselves what it must feel to him to be himself — yet our
final goal is to enrich and deepen our own world’s vision, to under-
stand our own nature and to make it finer, intellectually and
artistically. In grasping the essential outlook of others, with the
reverence and real understanding due even to savages, we cannot
help widening our own. We cannot possibly reach the final
Socratic wisdom of knowing ourselves if we never leave the
narrow confinement of the customs, beliefs and prejudices into
which every man is born. Nothing can teach us a better lesson in
this matter of ultimate importance than the habit of mind which
allows us to treat the beliefs and values of another man from his
point of view. Nor has civilized humanity ever needed such
tolerance more than now, when prejudice, ill-will and vindictive-
SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY AND MODERN CULTURE 403
ness are dividing each European nation from another, when all
the ideals, cherished and proclaimed as the highest achievements
of civilization, science and religion, have been thrown to the
winds. The Science of Man, in its most refined and deepest version,
should lead us to such knowledge and to tolerance and generosity,
based on the understanding of other men’s point of view.” 1
It follows from this that the scientific study of primitive cultures
helps us in the understanding of our own. We can see ourselves as
products of the values, material equipment, sentiments and
systems of knowledge which constitute the culture in which we
live and which has moulded our personalities, feelings and opin-
ions as culture does and has done for every individual human being
who has ever lived. We can view our most firmly held beliefs and
our most cherished traditions objectively, as merely one form of
cultural adjustment. But this does not imply, in the face of the over-
whelming problems with which we are faced, an attitude of
intellectual nihilism or moral apathy. On the contrary, the postu-
late of human needs enables us to consider our own institutions,
customs and values in terms of an ultimate normative conception
of how far they contribute to human happiness or misery. In this
intellectual adventure, with its enormous potentialities for human
welfare, we are faced with complex problems. Our solutions for
them must almost always be tentative, and will, because of the
limitations of knowledge, often be wrong. Our goals are distant
and but dimly envisaged, our methods are at present crude and
inadequate, our task seems overwhelming in its magnitude. But —
and here we pass from demonstrable scientific principles to an
assertion of personal conviction — the task envisaged is worth
while.
END OF VOLUME I
1 Malinowski (1), pp. 517-18.
APPENDIX A
AN ETHNOGRAPHIC DIRECTORY
The following list indicates approximately the location of various
peoples mentioned in this work, or which the student may encounter
in further reading. The list is intended primarily for reference, and no
attempt should be made to memorize it in its entirety. The index
should also be consulted.
It must be emphasized that the peoples mentioned constitute only a
minute proportion of the primitive cultures of the world, and that the
definition of habitat in terms of modern political boundaries is only
approximate (cf. pp. 31-2). In the case of Bantu peoples, the tribal
prefix (p. 34) has usually been omitted.
In certain cases reference has been made to points of special interest
in connection with the cultures concerned, and some limited suggest-
ions for further reading have been included. In the case of peoples
mentioned in the general surveys contained in Forde (1) and Murdock
(1), references to these works are given. The digest contained in them
should be sufficient for introductory reading, while they provide ample
bibliographies for the student who wishes to refer to original sources.
Aborigines: This term refers to the native inhabitants of any area in
pre-European times and their descendants. But it is rarely used
except in reference to the Australian aborigines ( q.v .). Note that
the adjectival form, “aboriginal”, should not be used as a noun.
Ainu: A primitive non-Mongolian people of northern Japan.
Murdock (1).
Aleut: A branch of the Eskimo inhabiting the Aleutian Islands.
Algonkin: A term originally applied to a small tribe of Algonquian-
speaking Indians inhabiting territory east of Ottawa. More
generally used to refer to the Algonquian Family of languages, a
linguistic stock of North America covering extensive territory
from Newfoundland in the east to the Rocky Mountains in the
west, and from Pamlico Sound in the south-east to the Churchill
River in the north-west.
Andaman Islanders: A hunting and food -gathering people of the Anda-
man Islands, Bay of Bengal. Radcliffe-Brown (1).
Ankole: A native kingdom of western Uganda. The Banyankole are
remarkable for the system of economic and social symbiosis of the
politically dominant pastoral Bahima and the socially inferior
agricultural Bairu. Oberg (1-3).
404
AN ETHNOGRAPHIC DIRECTORY 405
Aranda (or Arunta): An Australian tribe inhabiting territory around
Alice Springs, Central Australia. Murdock (1).
Arapesh: A mountain-dwelling people of northern New Guinea.
Arunta: See Aranda.
Ashanti: A native kingdom of the Gold Coast. The story of the Golden
Stool of Ashanti illustrates very well the effects of misunderstand-
ing native custom. Smith, E. W. (1).
Atsugewi: An Amerindian tribe of north-eastern California.
Australian aborigines: Hunters and food-gatherers of Australia. They
should not be referred to as “blackfellows”, though this is a com-
mon Australian usage, or as “Bushmen” (q.v.). In Australia the
term “bushman” (usually with the adjective “good”) is used to
refer to a white man who is expert in bush craft, and can fend for
himself when far from civilization. See also Aborigines . Elkin (3).
Azande: A group of kingdoms of Central Africa around the junction of
the frontiers of French Equatorial Africa, the Belgian Congo and
the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan. Notable for Evans-Pritchard’s very
detailed analysis of beliefs connected with witchcraft, and their
social significance. Evans- Pritchard (2).
Aztecs: A people of the valley of Mexico. Murdock (1).
Bahima, Bairu> Banyankole: See Ankole .
Baiga: A primitive tribe of the Central Provinces of India. Elwin (1).
Bedouin (or Badawin): Primarily camel-keeping peoples of Arabia,
though their culture has exerted an important influence on
neighbouring desert regions of North Africa. The true Bedouins
subsist mainly upon the milk of herds of camels, though among
marginal groups inhabiting slightly more fertile territory other
kinds of livestock are kept, and in certain areas some agriculture is
practised. Economically the camel is the most important domes-
ticated animal of this region, though horses are more highly prized
for social reasons. Warfare, either to secure camels or as a means of
obtaining prestige or avenging wrongs, is very common among the
Bedouin, who are organized into patrilineal kinship groups under
the leadership of a chief or sheikh . Forde (1) and Musil (1).
Bellacoola: A people of the north-west coast of America (q-v.) between
Queen Charlotte and Vancouver Islands.
Bemba: A Bantu tribe of north-eastern Rhodesia. A matrilineal, matri-
local, agricultural people among whom work carried out by the
bridegroom for the parents of the bride takes the place of the more
common Bantu lobola . Richards (4).
Benin ; A native city of southern Nigeria, famous for its very beautiful
native work in bronze.
Blackfoot: An American Indian people of the Bison area, inhabiting
territory on both sides of the Canadian-U.S.A. border, now
Alberta and Montana. Forde (1).
406 APPENDIX A
Boro: A people of South America inhabiting territory around the junc-
tion of the frontiers of Brazil, Peru and Colombia. Forde (i).
Bushmen: A hunting and food-gathering people of the Kalahari Desert,
South Africa. Forde (i).
Cayuga: One of the tribal groups composing the League of the Iroquois
(?•»•)•
Chaga: A Bantu tribe of northern Tanganyika. Raum (2).
Chenchus: A primitive people of southern Hyderabad, India. Fiirer-
Haimendorf (1).
Cherokee: A powerful Amerindian tribe of northern Georgia and the
Carolinas.
Cheyenne: Traditionally the Cheyenne were an agricultural tribe of
Minnesota, but they were driven westwards by the Sioux and
southwards as far as Colorado by other hostile tribes. During this
process they “lost the corn” and became bison hunters like other
Plains Indians.
Chinook: A small tribe of South-west Washington who spoke one of the
Chinookan family of languages, and also gave their name to the
“Chinook Jargon” (q.v.).
Chinook Jargon: A trade language spoken in the Columbia River region
of North America and along the Pacific Coast from California to
Alaska. It existed in pre-Columbian times as an intertribal lingua
franca , but was later supplemented by words from English, French
and possibly Russian.
Chins: A primitive people of Burma. Stevenson (1).
Chippewa: One of the largest tribes of North America, occupying
territory around the shores of Lakes Huron and Superior. Esti-
mates of their numbers at different periods range from 15,000 to
30,000.
Chiricahua: A mountain tribe of South-east Arizona.
Chocktaw: An agricultural people of central Mississippi.
Chuckchi: Reindeer herders and seal hunters of the extreme north-east
of Siberia. Forde (1).
Cochin: A native state of the Malabar coast, southern India. Forde (1).
Cook Islands: A group of islands of south central Polynesia.
Cree: An Algonquian tribe of Manitoba and Saskatchewan.
Creeks: A group of tribes of Alabama and Georgia, so called from the
numerous streams in their country.
Crow: A western Plains Indian tribe of Wyoming and Montana.
Murdock (1).
Dahomey: A once powerful negro kingdom forming part of what is now
the French West African colony of the same name. Murdock (1).
Dakota (or Sioux): The largest group of the Siouan family occupying
an extensive area of north central U.S.A., particularly the two
states of the same name and Minnesota.
AN ETHNOGRAPHIC DIRECTORY 407
Dieri: An Australian tribe to the east of Lake Eyre, south central
Australia.
Digger Indians: A term originally applied to the Nuanuints, a small
tribe of South-west Utah, who were the only Pauite tribe to prac-
tise agriculture. The term is also applied to a number of western
food-gatherers who relied largely on roots for food.
Dinka: A nilotic people of the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan. Scligman, C. G.
and B. Z. (1).
Dobu: A Melanesian island south of the Trobriands. Fortune (1).
Dyak: A term somewhat loosely applied to a wide variety of non-
Mohammedan peoples of Borneo. Cole (1).
Eskimo (or Esquimaux): Aboriginal inhabitants of northern Canada
and islands to the north, also extending westwards over the
Aleutian Islands to the north-east coast of Asia. Forde (1);
Murdock (1).
Ewe: A linguistic group of the central West African coast.
Flathead: A term applied to various Amerindian tribes who practised
artificial deformation of the heads of infants.
Fox: An Algonquian tribe of Wisconsin.
Fulani: Cattle-keeping people of the northern territories of West Africa.
Galla (or Gallas): A group of predominantly pastoral tribes of Abyssinia
and northern Kenya.
Ganda: A Bantu people of Uganda. Mair (3); Murdock (1).
Gikuyu: See Kikuyu.
Guadalcanal: A Melanesian island of the Solomon Group.
Haida: One of the peoples of the north-west coast ( q.v .) of America.
Murdock (1).
Haus a: A large group of Mohammedan people of northern Nigeria.
Hawaiian Islands: Northernmost of the large island groups of Polynesia.
Hehe: A Bantu tribe of Iringa Province, Tanganyika. The Hehe are
notable as the subject of an experiment in applied anthropology.
Brown and Hutt (1).
Hereto: A Bantu people of South-west Africa.
Hidatsa: A Siouan tribe of North Dakota.
Hopi: An agricultural people of northern Arizona. Murdock (1).
Hottentots: Nomadic herders of South-west Africa, distinct from the
Bushmen of the Kalahari Desert and the neighbouring Bantu
peoples. Murdock (1).
Hupa: An Amerindian tribe of the Trinity River, California.
Huron: A people inhabiting the strip of land between Lakes Huron and
Ontario.
Ibo: A large linguistic group of south-eastern Nigeria. Meek (1).
Igorot: A term loosely applied to various pagan peoples of north-
western Luzon. Cole (1).
Ila: A Bantu people of Northern Rhodesia. Smith and Dale (1).
s . a . 1. — 38
4 o8 APPENDIX A
Incas: A Peruvian people having a highly developed culture. Murdock
(>)•
Iroquois: The League of the Iroquois was a confederation of American
Indian tribes of northern New York. They were remarkable for
their complex political system and highly developed matrilineal
organization. Murdock (i).
Jaga: A warlike tribe of Angola.
Kababish: A pastoral people of the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan whose
ecology combines elements from the cattle-keeping tribes to the
east and the camel-keeping peoples to the west.
Kaffir (or Kafir) : A popular name for the Bantu peoples of South-east
Africa. Not used as a term in social anthropology.
Kano: A city of northern Nigeria, centre of the Hausa craft of leather-
work.
Kaihsienkung: A Chinese village about eighty miles west of Shanghai.
Fei (x).
Karadjeri: An Australian tribe inhabiting the coastal region and
hinterland, La Grange Bay, north-western Australia.
Kariera: An Australian tribe inhabiting territory south of the De Grey
River, Western Australia.
Kayan: An agricultural river-dwelling people of Borneo. Cole (i).
Kazaks: A pastoral people of Central Asia, between the Caspian Sea
and Chinese Turkestan. Murdock (i); Forde (i).
Kede (or Kyedye) : A sub-group of the Nupe living in settlements on the
banks of the Niger and Kaduna Rivers. Their livelihood depends
mainly on fishing and the river transport traffic, of which they
have a virtual monopoly. Nadel (3).
Khoisan Peoples: A term used in physical anthropology to denote the
Bushmen and Hottentots.
Kikuyu (or Gikuyu ) : A Bantu tribe of Kenya, north-east of Nairobi and
east of Mount Kenya.
Kimberley Tribes: A number of Australian tribes inhabiting the Kimber-
ley division of Western Australia. Kaberry (1).
Koryak: A people of eastern Asia to the north of Kamchatka. Their
ecology depends largely on fishing and reindeer-herding. Forde
{])•
Kwakiutl: One of the peoples of the north-west coast (q.v.) of America.
Forde (1).
League of the Iroquois: See Iroquois.
Lepchas: A people of Sikkim, east of Nepal, northern India. Gorer (1).
Lovedu: A Bantu people of the north-eastern Transvaal.
Malaita: A Melanesian Island of the Solomon Group.
Manam: An island off the northern coast of New Guinea. Wedgwood
Mangaia: A Polynesian Island of the Cook Group.
AN ETHNOGRAPHIC DIRECTORY 409
Manihiki and Rakahanga: Two small islands of Central Polynesia,
approximately half-way between the Marquesas and Samoa.
Manua : An island of American Samoa. Mead (1).
Manya-Krobo : One of the peoples inhabiting the Shai Plain of the Gold
Coast, between the River Volta and the Accra Plain.
Maori : The aboriginal Polynesian inhabitants of New Zealand. Firth ( 1 ) .
Marquesas : A large island group of north-eastern Polynesia.
Masai: A tribe of northern Tanganyika and southern Kenya. An
essentially pastoral people who despise agriculture. Forde (1).
Melanesia: An area of the Pacific. It includes New Guinea and the arc
of islands to the north-east of Australia, extending southwards as
far as New Caledonia and eastwards to Fiji.
Mende (or Mendi): A tribe of Sierra Leone. Their political system
includes an interesting method of elective succession of chieftain-
ship. Hofstra (1); Little (1 and 2).
Micmac: An Algonquian tribe of Nova Scotia and Prince Edward
Island.
Micronesia: An area of the Pacific covering the small scattered islands
to the north of Melanesia ( q.v .).
Miwok: A tribe of central California.
Mohawk: One of the tribal groups composing the League of the
Iroquois (q.v.).
Mundugumor: A New Guinea tribe of the Sepik River.
Munshi: A people of central Nigeria.
Murngin: An Australian tribe of north-eastern Arnhem Land, Northern
Territory of Australia. Warner (1).
Nagas: A group of agricultural tribes of the Naga Hills of Assam.
Natchez: An agricultural tribe of the lower Mississippi, remarkable for
their complex system of descent and rank. Swanton (1).
Navajo (or Navaho ) : A tribe of North-east Arizona, famous for the high
development of the art of weaving.
Nez Perci: A group of tribes of western Idaho, North-east Oregon and
South-east Washington. Their name was derived from their real
or supposed practice of piercing the nose for the insertion of a
piece of dentalium.
Ngonde: A district of Nyasaland, to the west of the northern end of Lake
Nyasa. Wilson (3).
Ngoni: A Bantu people of Northern Rhodesia and Portuguese East
Africa. Read (1 and 2).
Ngwato: The largest of the Bantu tribes of Bechuanaland.
Nootka: One of the peoples of the north-west coast (q.v.) of America.
Forde (1).
North-west Coast : A culture area of the Pacific coast of Canada and
adjacent islands. A distinctive cultural feature of this area was
the potlatch.
APPENDIX A
410
Nuba: A group of tribes inhabiting the Nuba Mountains of Kordofan.
They are primarily agriculturists, the keeping of livestock and
hunting being of minor significance. Social organization varies
greatly from one tribe to another. In some, chieftainship is highly
developed, in others political authority is rudimentary. Nadel (5).
Nuer: A people of the southern Sudan. Evans-Pritchard (3).
Nupe: A large tribe around and to the west of Bida in Nigeria. Subsist-
ence is mainly by cultivation of different varieties of grain and
other crops, though some cattle and other livestock are kept.
Culturally they are a heterogeneous people having a complex
political organization at the head of which is a monarch, called the
Etsu Nupe. The official religion is Mohammedanism interwoven
with a variety of pagan cults. Nadel (4).
Nyakyusa : A Bantu tribe of southern Tanganyika. Wilson (1 and 2).
Ojibway: The common name for the Chippewa ( q.v .).
Omaha: A Siouan tribe of eastern Nebraska.
Oneida: One of the tribal groups composing the League of the Iroquois
(q.v.).
Onondaga: One of the tribal groups composing the League of the
Iroquois (q.v.).
Ontong Java: An atoll to the north-east of the Solomon Islands. A
Polynesian “outlier”. Hogbin (2).
Ovimbundu: A Bantu people of Portuguese West Africa.
Paiute: A term somewhat loosely applied to an extensive group of
western Amerindian tribes inhabiting parts of Utah and Nevada
and eastern California. Forde (1).
Pavmotu , Tuamotu or Low Archipelago: Numerous small Polynesian
Islands to the east of the Society Islands.
Paviosto: The northern Paiute, a food-gathering people of north-
eastern California, Nevada and southern Oregon.
Pawnee: A tribe of south-eastern Nebraska.
Plains Indian Culture Area: A culture area of the Great Plains of central
North America, bounded on the north by the Saskatchewan River,
on the west by the Rocky Mountains, and on the east by a line
joining east central Missouri with west central Manitoba. Its
southern limits followed the southern borders of Utah and Colorado,
with a roughly triangular extension southward into central Texas.
Polynesia: An area of the Pacific, roughly east of longitude 180° and
also including New Zealand.
Pondo: A Bantu people of eastern Cape Province, South Africa.
Hunter (2).
Pueblos: A term applied to a group of tribes of the south-western
U.S.A. (South Colorado, Utah, New Mexico and Arizona) who
lived in permanent stone or adobe houses built into compact
villages, often in recesses in the walls of cliffs or canyons.
AN ETHNOGRAPHIC DIRECTORY 41 1
Pygmy: A term used in physical anthropology to refer to various
peoples of unusually short stature found in various parts of the
world.
Rakahanga: See Manihiki.
Reddis : A primitive people of eastern Hyderabad, India. Fiirer-
Haimendorf (1).
Rossel Island: A small Melanesian Island to the east of New Guinea.
The unique system of currency in Rossel Island is of special
interest. Armstrong (1).
Samoa (see also Mama): Large island group of central Polynesia.
Murdock (1).
Samoyeds: A hunting and deer-herding people of north central Asia,
employing reindeer as draught animals. Forde (1).
Semang : A hunting and food-gathering people of the Malay Peninsula.
Murdock (1); Forde (1).
Seneca: One of the tribal groups composing the League of the Iroquois
(?•»•)•
Senussi: A Mohammedan sect of Lybia.
Shawnee: An ill-defined tribal group of the eastern U.S.A., particularly
Tennessee.
Shilluk: A Nilotic people of the Anglo-Egyptian Sudan. Seligman,
C. G. and B. Z. (1).
Siouan Family: An extensive linguistic group of North America, extend-
ing from the junction of the Mississippi and Arkansas Rivers
north-west as far as southern Saskatchewan. The largest and best-
known tribal group of this area were the Sioux or Dakota (q.v.).
Sioux: See Dakota.
Society Islands: Large island group of east central Polynesia. Forde (1);
Piddington (4).
Swahili: A mixed Bantu-Arabic lingua franca spoken on the east central
coast of Africa. Not a tribal designation.
Swazi: A Bantu tribe of Swaziland Protectorate. Kuper (1).
Tahiti: Largest of the Society Islands.
Tallensi: A people of the northern territories of the Gold Coast. Sub-
sistence is based on animal husbandry and agriculture. The social
organization of the Tallensi is marked by emphasis on kinship
and locality, there being no centralized tribal authority. Fortes
Tchambuli: A small tribe of north central New Guinea.
Tebu (or Tibbu): A camel-keeping people of the Tibetsi plateau,
eastern Sahara.
Thonga: See Tonga.
Tikopia: Small island, a western “outlier” of Polynesia, south-east of
the Santa Cruz Islands. Firth (8).
Tlingit: A people of the north-west coast (q.v.) of America.
412 APPENDIX A
Todas: A people of the Nilgiri Hills, Malabar Peninsula, southern
India. Murdock (i).
Tongdy Thonga or Bathonga : A Bantu people of the northern and eastern
Transvaal. Not to be confused with the Pacific island or island
group (see next entry). Junod (i).
Tonga: A large island group of western Polynesia. Not to be confused
with the Bantu Tonga (see previous entry).
Tongareva: Small Polynesian island to the north of Manihiki and
Rakahanga.
Trobriand Islands: A Melanesian archipelago to the north of the eastern
end of New Guinea. Malinowski (i).
Tswana: A group of Bantu tribes of the western Transvaal and eastern
Bechuanaland.
Tuamotu: See Paumotu.
Tuareg: A camel-keeping people of the western Sahara.
Tungus: The Northern Tungus are reindeer-keeping peoples of Trans-
Baikalia, eastern Siberia. The Southern Tungus of Manchuria and
Outer Mongolia, on the other hand, are primarily agriculturists
who also keep livestock (Forde (i).
Tuscarora: A group of tribes of North Carolina, the last nation to join
the League of the Iroquois (q.v.).
Umor: A village of the Yako tribe.
Veddas: A primitive hunting and food-gathering people of the forests of
Ceylon. Seligman, The Veddas ( 19 1 1).
Winnebago: A Siouan tribe of Wisconsin.
Witotos: A primitive people of the Amazon jungle, Brazil. Murdock (1).
Wo geo: One of the Schouten Islands off the northern coast of New
Guinea, not far from the mouth of the Sepik River. The culture is
Melanesian and the systems of law and land tenure are of special
interest. Hogbin (7-10).
Xosa (or Xhosd): A Bantu people of eastern Cape Province around East
London.
Yakti: A tribe of Ogoja Province, southern Nigeria. Forde (2-4).
Yakuts: A pastoral people of eastern Asia, whose territory lies between
the Tungus and the Yukaghir. Forde (1).
Yokuts: An Indian tribe of central California.
Yoruba: A large group of tribes of south-western Nigeria. Forde (1).
Yukaghir: A reindeer-herding people of the Kolyma River, eastern
Siberia. Forde (1).
Yurok: A tribe of north-western California.
Zunde: Singular and adjectival form of Azande.
Zulu: A once powerful Bantu tribe of northern Natal, South Africa.
The Zulu nation rose to power under Chaka (or Shaka) in pre-
European times. Gluckman (1).
Zufti: A Pueblo tribe of western New Mexico.
APPENDIX B
KINSHIP EXERCISE
Readers who wish to check their knowledge of some of the terms and
principles connected with kinship organization outlined in Chapter
IV may do so by attempting the following exercise and then comparing
their answers with those given in Appendix D.
Part I: Terminology
1 . What technical terms are used to denote the following ? —
i. Cousins who are related through parents of identical sex, i.e.
the children of two brothers or of two sisters.
ii. The system of kinship terminology whereby different kinds of
relatives are grouped together under the same term.
iii. The system whereby a man goes at marriage to live with the
family of his bride.
iv. The rule that a man must marry a woman of his own social
group.
v. The custom whereby, if a married man dies, his younger
brother may, or must, marry his widow.
vi. Both brothers and sisters.
vii. A kinship term which refers to one type of genealogical relation-
ship only.
viii. The system whereby a woman may have more than one
husband.
ix. The rule that a man may not marry a woman of his own social
group.
x. The type of kinship which reckons consanguineous relationship
through both males and females.
2. If, in studying primitive cultures, you were to find the following
types of social groups, by what technical terms would you describe
them?
i. A group of adjoining huts inhabited by:
(a) An old woman and her husband.
(b) Her three daughters, two of whom are widows,
(c) The husband of the third daughter.
(d) The female children of the three daughters, but not
the married son of one of them. This man lives in a
different village.
4*3
4 X 4
APPENDIX B
ii. A group of individuals who, though they cannot all trace
genealogical relationship to each other, nevertheless claim
common descent in the male line from a mythical ancestor
who was half man and half pigeon. Members of this group
refuse to kill or eat pigeons, and the same taboos in regard to
other natural species are observed by other similar groups in
the same tribe.
iii. The tribe is divided into two groups which do not inter-
marry. Membership of each group is inherited from the in-
dividual’s mother. One group is associated with the eagle and
the other with the crow, and members of each group refrain
from killing the bird with which their group is associated.
Part II: Construction of Genealogy
From the following data, construct the genealogy of GEORGE,
who is EGO. (Note that order of birth of children is indicated by the
order in which they are mentioned, unless otherwise stated.)
GEORGE is the son of DENNIS and Mary. DENNIS has two elder
siblings, Freda and DUDLEY. Freda is married to ALBERT and
they have a daughter Dorothy. DUDLEY is married to Roma and
they have a son, DOUGLAS.
The father of DENNIS is dead. His name was WILLIAM, and he
had an elder brother JAMES, who is also dead. JAMES had two sons,
KEN and DAVID.
GEORGE has an elder sister Constance, who is married to NOR-
MAN. NORMAN and Constance have two children, ARTHUR and
Vera. Vera is married to RICHARD and has a son, HUGH.
EGO’s mother, Mary, is the daughter of HAROLD, who is dead.
The name of HAROLD’S wife, who is also dead, is not known, but
she had a brother, still living, whose name is KEITH.
Mary has two younger siblings, BERNARD and Bernice. BERN-
ARD is married to Margaret, and they have two children, FRED and
Audrey. Bernice is married to PATRICK, and they also have two
children, Rose and Muriel.
GEORGE is married to Mabel, who is the daughter of JACK and
Barbara. Mabel had an elder brother HOWARD, who is dead.
Barbara has a younger brother ANDREW, who is married to a
woman whose name is not known. JACK has an elder sister Violet,
who is married to JOSEPH and has a son DANIEL. Violet and
JACK are the children of DONALD and Jean. Jean has a younger
brother JOHN.
GEORGE and Mabel have an infant son, ERNEST.
Having constructed a genealogy showing the above relationships,
you should imagine that, in spite of the English names, the genealogy
refers to primitive kinship, and attempt the following questions.
KINSHIP EXERCISE
415
3. Which of the following pairs of individuals are patrilineal kin to each
other?
WILLIAM and ARTHUR
GEORGE and DAVID
HAROLD and FRED
ALBERT and DENNIS
KEN and Freda
RICHARD and Constance
WILLIAM and Dorothy
Freda and Roma
Mary and Audrey
Audrey and Rose
4. Which of the following pairs of individuals arc matrilineal kin to
each other?
GEORGE and BERNARD
DOUGLAS and ALBERT
FRED and GEORGE
KEN and BERNARD
PATRICK and DUDLEY
WILLIAM and Mabel
KEITH and Audrey
Mabel and Violet
Mary and Muriel
Constance and Dorothy
5. Which of the following pairs of individuals would you normally
expect to find living in the same village in a community practising
matrilocal marriage ?
DENNIS and PATRICK BERNARD and Dorothy
JACK and ERNEST DENNIS and Rose
RICHARD and Mary GEORGE and ERNEST
G. Which of the following individuals are consanguineous, and which
affinal, kin of DENNIS? In regard to consanguineous kin, you
should reckon relationships through either males or females, or
both:
DUDLEY
Mary
ALBERT
RICHARD
FRED
KEN
HUGH
ERNEST
Constance
Bernice
7. Under patrilineal inheritance , who would be the person last named in
the genealogy who would ultimately inherit the wealth of (a)
DENNIS and (b) HAROLD?
8. Under matrilineal succession , who is the person last named in the
genealogy who would succeed to the rank and title of {a) KEITH
and (b) JOHN?
9. Which of the following pairs of individuals are cross-cousins to each
other?
GEORGE and DOUGLAS FRED and Constance
ARTHUR and ERNEST Rose and Audrey
DANIEL and Mabel Dorothy and Constance
APPENDIX C
PRIMITIVE COMMUNISM— AN EXPERIMENT IN
SEMANTICS
In Section 5 of Chapter VIII we set forth the reasons why the term
“primitive communism” should not be used in anthropology. Some
students find difficulty in following these arguments in the abstract.
They ask why, since primitive economic systems bear some resem-
blance to their conception of a communistic society, they should
refrain from applying the term “primitive communism” to them. A
direct answer to this question in concrete terms helps students to
appreciate the significance of the general arguments mentioned above.
The following experiment was therefore carried out with two first-year
classes in Social Anthropology in the University of Edinburgh during
the sessions 1946-7 and 1947-8.
Members of the 1946-7 class were asked, after they had attended a
series of lectures on primitive economics and land tenure, ( a ) to write
out a brief definition of what they understood by the term “com-
munism”, and ( b ) to write down the word which they regarded as the
antithesis of communism. In order to secure maximum freedom in the
expression of opinion, students were told that they need not give their
names in handing in their answers.
The heterogeneity of the definitions of “communism” may be
judged from the range of terms given as its antithesis: individualism,
capitalism, feudalism, autocracy, conservatism, laissez-faire, oligarchy,
anarchy, fascism, caste, dictatorship, monarchy, despotism, plutocracy,
autarchy, private enterprise, monopoly.
From the definitions of communism given by students, representative
passages were abstracted so as to provide a series of twenty-seven state-
ments all purporting to refer to a condition of “communism”. These
statements were subsequently submitted to both classes in the form of
a questionnaire, the answers to which were again anonymous.
Questionnaire
Below are a number of statements, each preceded by a dotted line.
On the dotted line to the left of each statement write a capital “T”,
“F” or “I” according to the following code:
(a) If the statement is true of the primitive societies which you
know, write “T”.
( b ) If the statement is false in the same application write “F”.
416
PRIMITIVE COMMUNISM
4>7
( c ) If the statement is inapplicable write “I”. By “inapplicable” in
this context is meant either (a) true of some primitive societies but
not of others, ( b ) true, in general, but only subject to important
reservations; ( c ) meaningless when applied to primitive societies.
1 The benefits of the land and the resulting economic wealth
are for the use of the community without differentiation
according to birth.
2 The entire material resources of the community are owned
jointly by all its members.
3 Every member of the community has an equal share in the
profits of the “national exchequer”.
4 All people of a “state” are brought to a common level in
order to further the ends, usually material, of that state.
5 Government is by rulers elected by the people.
6 No part of the community has any economic or social
advantage over another.
7 The State controls all sources of production.
8 No individual possesses other than small personal belongings.
Buildings and other important things are allotted by the State.
9 Food is given according to work done. Every able-bodied
person, therefore, must work.
10 Everyone works for the good of the State. The produce,
etc., which is gQt from their labour is pooled and distributed
among all. No one gets the produce of his own labour, but
gets a share of all produce.
11 Each individual has equal rights. Each individual works for
the general good according to his or her ability.
12 No one is in want.
13 No one definitely owns any land or property for himself.
14 The means of production, exchange and distribution are
held in common.
15 Men and women give to society according to their capacity
and take from its products according to their needs.
16 Individuals live in self-supporting groups.
17 Individuals work towards equality both financially and
socially.
18 People all have the same privileges and status.
19 People are intimately bound to help one another in any
type of work.
20 There is a belief in the universal brotherhood of man.
21 Power is in the hands of the lower classes.
22 There are no class distinctions.
23 The interests of the individual are subjugated to those of the
community as a whole.
24 All property belongs to the group as a whole.
4 i8 APPENDIX C
25 There is no private ownership — an individual works, not
for himself nor his kin, but for society.
26 Economic life is centred around the community’s needs, to
which all contribute without expecting rewards.
27 Inheritance of property does not exist.
From the answers returned to this questionnaire by the two classes,
one hundred papers were selected at random, and the answers tabu-
lated as follows :
Table A
Percentages of students regarding each statement as true, false or inapplicable
Answers of Students Answers of Students
No . of
Per-
Per-
Per-
No. of
Per -
Per-
Per-
Statement
centage centage centage
Statement
centage centage centage
« j'jj
“F”
ttJJJ
“F”
CC JJf
1
• 12
70
18
15
. 28
43
29
2
• 14
6 9
17
16
• 55
13
32
3
• 5
68
27
17
• 4
69
27
4
• 9
61
30
18
. 1
90
9
5
• 5
37
58
19
• 45
21
34
6
. 1 1
72
i7
20
• 14
45
4i
7
. 12
52
36
21
. 0
73
27
8
• 9
68
23
22
• 3
82
15
9
• 38
24
38
23
• 41
25
34
10
• 9
59
32
24
• 13
58
29
1 1
• 1 1
61
28
25
• 5
80
!5
12
. 42
34
24
26
• 15
61
24
13
• 16
62
22
27
. 1
89
10
H
• 35
42
23
Table B
Percentages of students regarding different numbers of statements as true
Total Number of
Percentage of
Total Number of
Percentage of
Statements Regarded
as True
Students
Statements Regarded
as True
Students
17
1
8
3
16
0
7
9
15
0
6
8
14
1
5
5
13
X
4
7
13
I
3
10
II
3
2
16
10
6
1
9
9
5
0
*5
PRIMITIVE COMMUNISM 419
The results of this experiment reveal, not only the wide divergence
of opinion among the students in regard to what is meant by “com-
munism”, but also disagreement as to whether characteristics which
various students themselves regard as “communistic” can be attributed
to primitive societies. The general tendency is to regard the statements
as false.
The conclusions of the experiment, however, are not so much
concerned with the truth or falsity of the statements as applied to
primitive communities, as with the confusions and misunderstand-
ings which arise in connection with the use of the term “primitive
communism”, which has widely differing meanings for different
individuals.
In conclusion, it must be emphasized that it is also dangerous simply
to deny that primitive society is communistic. To do so might imply
that it is characterized by individualism, capitalism, feudalism, auto-
cracy or any of the other features which various students regard as the
antithesis of “communism”. It would convey different meanings to
different individuals. In fact, no such blanket terms are adequate to
cover the complex realities of primitive economic organization. They
are only used by those who, by implication, agree with Humpty
Dumpty: “When I use a word it means exactly what I intend it to
mean, no more and no less.”
APPENDIX D
ANSWERS TO KINSHIP EXERCISE
Part I: Terminology
Question i
i. Parallel cousins.
ii. Classificatory system.
iii. Matrilocal marriage.
iv. Endogamy.
v. Junior levirate.
vi. Sibling.
vii. Descriptive.
viii. Polyandry,
ix. Exogamy.
x. Bilateral.
Question 2
i. Matrilocal extended family.
ii. Patrilineal totemic clan.
iii. Matrilineal totemic moieties.
Part II: Construction
Question 3
GEORGE and DAVID
HAROLD and FRED
of Genealogy
KEN and Freda
Mary and Audrey
Question 4
^GEORGE and BERNARD
Mary and Muriel
Question 5
DENNIS and PATRICK
JACK and ERNEST
RICHARD and Mary
DENNIS and Rose
GEORGE and ERNEST
Question 6
DUDLEY — Consanguineous
Mary — Affinal
ALBERT— Affinal
RICHARD— Affinal
FRED — Affinal
KEN — Consanguineous
HU GH — Consanguineous
ERNEST — Consanguineous
Cons tance — Consanguineous
Bernice — Affinal
Question 7
{a) DENNIS— ERNEST
(b) HAROLD— FRED
430
ANSWERS TO KINSHIP EXERCISE
421
Question 8
~(a) KEITH— HUGH (b) JOHN— DANIEL
Question g
ARTHUR and ERNEST Rose and Audrey
DANIEL and Mabel Dorothy and Constance
FRED and Constance
BIBLIOGRAPHY 1
Note
The system of references used in this work is not a common one and
should perhaps be explained. Works are usually cited by the name of
the author, followed by a number in parentheses, the latter correspond-
ing to the numbers in parentheses in the Bibliography. Thus, Ashley-
Montagu ( i ) is his work Coming into Being among the Australian Aborigines
and Ashley-Montagu (2) is the book Man's Most Dangerous Myth .
Where only a single work by a given author is cited, it may seem
superfluous to add (1), but this is done so that this Bibliography may
be used together with that which will appear in Volume II, where
further works by such an author may be cited. This will ensure a uni-
form system of references throughout the two volumes. Works are
generally cited in chronological order of publication, but this is some-
times varied in order to bring several of an author’s works on a single
subject or area together for ease of reference. It would in any case have
been impossible to carry over a strict chronological order of citation
into Volume II.
Adam, L.
(1)
Armstrong, W. E.
(0
Ashley-Montagu, M.
F. (1)
—
(2)
Barnett, H. G.
(0
Baumann, H.
(I)
“Functionalism and Neo-Functionalism,”
Oceania , Vol. XVII, p. 1 (1946).
Rossel Island (1928).
Coming into Being among the Australian
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Man's Most Dangerous Myth: The Fallacy of
Race (1942).
“The Nature of the Potlatch,” A.A.,
Vol. XL, pp. 349-58 (1938)-
“The Division of Work according to Sex
in African Hoe Culture,” Africa , Vol. I,
p. 289 (1928).
1 In connection with the citation of articles from anthropological journals, the
following conventions should be noted:
Journal Cited as
Africa Africa
African Studies (previously Bantu Studies) ..... African Studies
The American Anthropologist . ....... A. A.
The Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute .... J.R.AJ .
Man , A Monthly Record qf Anthropological Science .... Man
Oceania ........... Oceania
422
Beemer, H.
Bell, F. L. S.
Benedict, R,
Bidney, D.
Blackwood, B.
Boas, F.
(Ed.)
Brown, E. F.
Brown, G. G.
Brown, G. G., and
Barnett, J. H.
Brown, G. G., and
Hutt, A. McD. B.
Chadwick, N. K.
Childe, V. G
Clarke, E.
Cole, F. C.
Davis, K.
BIBLIOGRAPHY 423
See also Kuper, H.
(1) “The Development of the Military Organ-
ization in Swaziland,” Africa , Vol. X,
pp. 55 and 176 (1937)-
(1) “The Place of Food in the Social Life of
Central Polynesia,” Oceania , Vol. II,
No. 2, pp. 117-35 (* 930 -
(2) “Sokapana: A Melanesian Secret
Society,” J.R.A.I. , Vol. LXV, pp. 31 1-
42 (1935)-
(1) “Marital Property Rights in Bilateral
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• *29
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INDEX
Note : On tribal designations the Ethnographic Directory should also be consulted
Aborigines: 404; see also Australian abori-
gines
Acorn area: 43
Activities: institutional, 240-1
Adam, L. : 255
Adelphic polyandry: 112 n.
Adhesion: 22
Adjustment cults: 245 n.
Administrators: 12; value of social
anthropology to, 10
Adolescence: 9; Bantu, 264-5; see also
Education, Initiation
Adoption : 1 1 1 , 226
Adultery: Bantu, 343-4; Iroquois, 56;
Wogeo, 328-33; see also Marriage,
Wife-lending
Advertising: 378
^Esthetic standards: 234
Affinal kinship : 1 1 1
Africa: agriculture in, 39-40; black-
smiths in, 270; cultures of, 33-40;
pastoral peoples of, 37—9; pastoralists,
and warfare, 396; references on, 58
Age : classes, 1 76 n. ; grades, 1 76 ; group-
ings, 1 75-6 ; sets, 1 76 n . ; see also Geron-
tocracy, Life cycle
Agnatic kin: 145
Agricultural peoples: and land tenure,
290
Agricultural rites: 381
Agriculture: African, 39-40; Amerin-
dian, 43; Baiga, 65; Chin, 67-9;
Iroquois, 55; Kazak, 64; Trobriand,
367-8; Wogeo, 294-5
Ambilateral kinship: 117, 151
Ambivalent attitudes: 138
American Indians: 40-59
Amerind, Amerindian, Amerindic: 40
Amerindian tribes: and cannibalism, 393
Amulets: Eskimo, 52
Ancestors and ancestor worship: 37, 144,
146, 147/1., 164, 192, 200, 326, 357,
388, 397
Andaman Islanders: ix, 71, 105
Animism: 356-7
Ankole: 40; political organization, 200;
see also Banyankole
Anthropoid apes: 219-20, 227
Anthropological sciences: 1-3
Anthropometry: 1
Aranda: 75, 79 n., 106, 1 19, 203
Archaeology: see Prehistoric archaeology
Arctic hysteria: 51
Area of wild seeds: 43-4; political organ-
ization, 199
Arioi : 207, 21 1-13
Armstrong, W. E. : 286
Art : 1 9, 235 ; of Bushmen, 36
Artefacts: 4
Arunta : see Aranda
Ashanti: 151 n .; creator god, 372
Ashley-Montagu, M. F. : 29, 163; on
race, 399
Asia: primitive cultures of, 60-9; refer-
ence on, 105
Assam: 66-7
Association areas: 220
Associations: 206-15; references on, 218
Australian aborigines: 6, 74-5, 244, 266,
405; division of labour, 169; kinship,
124; land tenure, 289; marriage, 142-
3; medicine men, 389; paternity, 154;
political organization, 199; polygyny,
1 12; references on, 106; sorcery, 364;
status among, 189; totemic cere-
monies, 389; tribal variations, 32;
tribe, 164; warfare, 396; wife-lending,
1 14-15; women, 170, 285
Avoidance: 124, 136—8
Azande: 405; magic, 392; witchcraft,
382-7
Aztecs: 41
Ba-Ila: 265
Baboons: 227-8
Baganda: blood brotherhood, 214;
totemism, 202, 205; see also Ganda
Bahima: 40
Baiga : 65
Bairu: 40
Banks Islands: origin of death, 373;
secret societies, 207—8
Bantu: 6, 170, 275, 287; alleged com-
munism of, 315; area, 35; bn de-price,
139; languages, 33-4; legal institu-
tions, 338-51; nutrition, 259-66; poli-
tical organization, 190; preferential
marriage, 142
Banyankole: 189; see also Ankole
Basic personality: 246 a.
434
INDEX
435
Baumann, H.: 2B6
Bedouin: 170, 405
Belief in immortality: 375-6
Beliefs, religious: 374-5; see also Magico-
religious
Bell, F. L. S .: 286
Bemba: 120, 140, 166, 170; agriculture,
39; marriage, 172
Benedict, R.: 246, 286
Berdache : 175
Bilateral cross-cousin marriage: 143
Bilateral kinship: 117
Bison area: 44
Blacksmiths: Hehe, 275; in Africa,
270
Blackwood, B.: 216
Blood brotherhood: 214-15; Masai, 38
Blood feud: 322
Blowgun: 28, 70
Boas, F. : 286; on the Eskimo, 45-6
Bodily ritual : 377
Bo las: 44
Bond friendship: 214-15
Bow and arrow ceremony: 1 13-14
Brain, human: 2, 220
Bride-price, bride-wealth: 37, 139-41,
1 71 ; Chin, 69; Tungus, 62
Brown, G. G., and Hutt, A. McD. B: 30,
58, 1 1 2, 217, 286, 318, 355
Bucher, K. : 267
Buck, P. H.: 105
Bundu : 171, 210 n.
Bunzel, R.: 286
Burial: 378
Burma: 67-9
Bushmen: 33, 35-6
Cache : 41
Camels: 38
Cannibalism: 394; Eskimo, 46
Caribou: 41, 46
Caribou area: 41-3
Cassava: 39
Cattle, in Africa: 37-9; see also Lobola
Cayuga: 52, 54
Ceremonial: 19, 248; mortuary, 377-8;
see also Magico-religious, Ritual
Chaga, education among: 181
Chaka: 240
Charter: of an institution, 239; mytho-
logy as, 369-74
Chenchus: 65-6; phratries, 147-8
Chiefs and chieftainship : 259; Bantu,
346; Iroquois, 55; Nyakyusa, 302-3,
308-11; reciprocity, 274-5; sanctity,
376; Trobriand, 74; see also Political
organization
Childe, V. G.: 25-6, 30
Chinook jargon: 406
Chins: 25, 67-9, 105
Chuckchi : 63
Cicatrization : 1 77 n.
Cicisbeism: 112/1., 1 14-15.
Circumcision: 177; Karadjeri, 92, 95-
102; Masai, 176
Citemene method of agriculture: 39
Civilized communities: see Modern com-
munities
Clan and clans: 146-7; Australian, 75,
80; incest, 132; Iroquois, 53, 55;
Kazak, 63-4; legal functions of, 322-4;
Scottish, 146; Tikopia, 146, 372; Tun-
gus, 61 ; vengeance, 322; Wogeo, 74
Classificatory kinship terminology: 122-
6, 129, 134-5
Classifiers, Bantu: 34
Clitoridcctomy: 178/1.
Clothing, Eskimo: 47
Coco-nut, in the Pacific: 73
Cole, F. C.: 105
Collective labour: 269
Collective responsibility: 322, 351
Common law marriage: 160 n.
Communism: see Primitive communism
Comparative method: 22-6
Complex: see Culture complex
Compulsion neurosis: 245
Compulsive power of the word : 378
Conceptional totemism: 203
Concrete isolates of culture: 237
Concubinage: 114; Nuer, 158
Configurationist approach to culture:
24, 246
Conjunction: 138
Consanguineous kinship: in
Cooking, duties of Bantu wives: 262
Copra: 73
Cosmogony, Karadjeri : 92-5
Craftsmen: 270
Cremation: 378
Cross-cousin marriage: 62; Australia, 75;
bilateral, matrilateral, patrilateral,
143; T robriand, 1 55 n.
Cross-cousins: 127-8
Courtship: 172
Cousins: 127-8
Couvade: 27
Crow: 1 71, 209-10, 215, 270, 284
Cullen Young, T. : on bride-wealth, 141
Cultural degeneration : 246
Cultural efflorescence, 244
Culture: 2; analysis of, 17-21, 219-55;
definition of, 3-4; instrumental func-
tion of, 219-21; organic unity of, 14;
primitive, 3, 5-6; race and, 398-9;
universal aspects of, 247-9
Culture area : 23, 30
Culture complex: 22-3, 30
Culture contact: ix, 7, 10, 30, 402
Culture traits: 22, 30, 238, 244
Cultures, classification of: 22-6
Currency, in Rossel Island: 276-7
INDEX
436
Dahomey, “Amazons** in : 170 n.
Dakota: 175
Dart match in Tikopia: 249-54, 381
Deacon, A. B.: 106. 163, 216-17
Dead, disposal of: 377
Dead, spirits of, among the Eskimo: 51
Death: 228; attitude towards, 186-7;
myths of origin of, 373
Defamation, in Bantu law: 344-5
Degeneration, cultural: 246
Descent: 1 15-17
Descriptive kinship terms: 122
Detribalization: 7
Dewey, J.: 257
Dieri: 1 15
Diffusion: 28-9, 245
DifTusionist reconstruction: 27
Disjunction: 138
Distribution, economic : 282-6
Division of labour: 169, 171, 270; in
African agriculture, 39
Divorce, Bantu: 343
Dorobo : 37-38; and Masai age-grades, 1 76
Double unilateral descent: 117, 1 51—3,
215 /1.
Dowry: 141; Chin, 69; Tungus, 62
Drift, in language: 245
Dual organization: 148; see also Moieties
Dukduk: 208-9
Dumb barter: 70
Durkheim, £.: ix, 391; on primitive
religion and magic, 360-1
Dyaks: 71
Dysphoria, social: 327
Eaglehawk increase ceremony, Karad-
jeri; 87
Economics, primitive: 266-86
Economic system: 18, 229
Ecologies: of Africa, 36-40; of the Pacific,
73
Ecology: 4-5
Education: 18, 175-89, 228-9; functions
of, 179; Tallensi, 184-6.
Efflorescence, cultural: 244-7
Egypt: 255; incest in, 131, 136
Elkin, A. P.: 106, 216, 218, 286,; on
totemism in Australia, 203 n.
Elliot Smith, G.: 14, 30, 255, 321, 393
Elwin, V.: 105
Embree, J. F.: 105
Endogamy: 132, 136, 247; in stratified
societies, 193, 198-9
Engels, F.: 315
Environment: see Geographical environ-
ment
Eponymous ancestor: 147 n .
Eskimo: xi, 45-52, 244, 266, 287, 407;
area, 41 ; cannibalism, 46, 394; cultural
variations, 47; magicians, 388-9; of
north-east Asia, 63; status among, 189
Ethnography: 3 n.
Ethnology: 3 n.
Euphoria, social: 327
Evans-Pritchard, E. E.: 58, 163, 217-18,
392; on cattle among the Nuer, 38; on
the Nuer family, 156-60; on termin-
ology, 366; on witchcraft among the
Azande, 382-7
Evolution: 2, 220-1
Evolutionary reconstruction: 27
Ewe: 33
Exchange, economic: 270-9
Exogamy: 132-6; and rank among the
Natchez, 198
Extended family: 148-9; Iroquois, 52-3
Extended kinship groupings: 144-53
Extra-sensory perception: 401
Facts, of anthropological science: 237-8
Fahu: 194
Family: 9, 1 10-14, 153-61 ; defined, 110-
1 1 ; pi ace of the father in the Bantu,
260-6; place of father in the Tro-
briand, 1 55 ; functions of, 128-9, ! 53~4I
infanticide, 395; Iroquois, 52-3; Nuer,
156-60; organization of, 231; settle-
ment of disputes among the Bantu,
347; see also Kinship, Marriage
Famine: 45, 257
Father-right: 117
Feasts: Eskimo, 51
Feasts of Merit: 25; Chin, 68-9; Naga, 67
Fei, H. T.: 30, 105, 163. 286, 318
Female circumcision; see Clitoridectomy
Fictional kinship: 126
Field, M. J.; 286
Field records: 32, 254
Field-work: 10-14; 30
Films, ethnographic: xiii
First-fruit ceremonies: 39
Firth, R.: 29, 32, 105, 163, 216-17, 255,
286, 316 n., 318, 392; on efflorescence,
245 n.; on kinship in Polynesia, 24, 30;
on religion in Tikopia, 390; on religious
belief, 374—5; on Tikopia clans, 146;
on Tikopia dart match, 249-54
Fishing: 43, 169
Fono: 380
Food: 221-2; taboos, 258, 379; see also
Nutrition
Food areas, of New World: 41-5
Food-getting, as basis of cultural classi*
fication: 25-6
Forde, C. D.: 58, 105, 163, 216-17, 286,
3*8
Fortes, M.: 58, 163, 184-7, 217-18
Fortes, M., and Evans-Pritchard, E. E.:
355
Fortes, M. and S. L. : 286
Fortune, R. : 106, 392
Fraternal polyandry: 112 a.
INDEX
Frazer, J. G. : 218, 360, 373 n ., 374, 391 ;
on primitive religion and magic, 358;
on totemism, 203; on types of magic,
368
Freudian school: 256
Fulani: 38
Functionalism; viii-ix; and diffusion, 29
Functional theory and method: 14-17,
255
Functions of an institution: 239-41
Ftirer-Haimendorf, G. von: 105
Ganda: 34, 170; conception of taboo,
379; see also Baganda
Garth, T. R.: 286
Genealogical method: 108 n.
General initiation, ceremonies of: 175 n.
Generosity: 284-5
Gens: 147
Geographical environment: ix, 5, 18,
224, 247, 266, 287; as determinant of
culture, 244; Eskimo, 45
Gerontocracy: 75
Gifford, E. W. : 195, 217
Gifts: 271
Gluckman, M. : 255
Golden age: 320
Goldenwciscr, A. : 59, 217-18; on totem-
ism, 203
Goodwin, A. J. H. : 286
Gorer, G.: 105
Grimms* law : 245 n.
Group marriage: 114, 115 a.
Guanaco area: 44
Habitations: 167
Haddon, A. C. : 29
Haida: 165, 189; potlatch, 56-8
Hambly, W. D.: 58, 216
Hamitic languages: 33
Hands, significance of in human evolu-
tion: 220
Hapu : 1 1 7, 151
Hart, C. W. M.: 217
Hartland, S.: 321
Hausa: 33
Hawaii: 73, 131, 136
Head-hunting: 395
Health: 226-7
Hehe: 217, 273, 407; agriculture, 269;
blacksmiths, 275; political organiza-
tion, 190-3; polygyny, 112
Herero: 37
Herskovits, M. : 58, 286
Hertz, H. R.: 8
Hiawatha: 54
Hidatsa: 44
Hildebrand, B.: 266
History and historical reconstruction: 12,
26-9, 255
Hobbes, T. : on laughter, 138
437
Hobhouse, L. T. : on the definition of law,
352
Hodge, F. W\: 58, 216
Hoe, in African agriculture: 39
Hoernl6, A. W. : 1 63
Hofstra, S.: 217
Hogben, L.; on the function of science,
ix; on pure and applied science, 8;
on race, 399 n.; on sex and food, 257 n.
Hogbin, H. I.: 14,30,105-6,182,216-17,
286, 318, 355, 392; on beliefs in the
supernatural, 397; on sorcery, 364
Homans, G. C.: 392
Homicide: Bantu, 345; Eskimo, 49;
see also Murder
Homosexuality: 175
Hopi : totemism, 202
Hordes: Australian, 63 74-5, 80, 199;
Kazak, 63-4
Hospitality: 263, 265
Hottentots: 33, 35, 38
Howells, W. : 30, 255
Hsu, F. L. K.r 135
Human genetics: 1-2
Human nature: 9-10, 397
Hunter, M.: 30, 163, 217
Hunters and food-gatherers: 26. 165;
Africa, 36-7; land tenure, 289
Hupa: 323
Huron: 54
Huxley, J. : 29
Ibo: i(>4
Igloo: 47
Igorot: 71
Illness, diagnosis of among the Eskimo:
48
Immortality, beliefs in : 375-6
Incas: 41, 131, 136
Incest: 131-6
Incision: 177
Increase ceremonies: 75, 36i;Karad-
jeri, 83-7
India, primitive tribes of: 65-6
Indices of identification : 124-5
Individual totemism; 203
Infant betrothal: 173
Infanticide: 394-5, 397; Bantu, 345
Inheritance: 118-19; and rank, 189-90;
of land in Wogeo, 295-8
Initial situation of kinship: 131
Initiation: 175-9, 377; Bantu, 338; Kar-
adjeri, 76, 91-105; references on, 217
Institutional efflorescence, 245 n .
Institutions: 16; analysis, 241-4; defi-
nition, 238; needs and, 236-8; struc-
ture of, 239-41
Iroquoian linguistic family: 52 n,
Iroquois : 52-6, 1 1 7, 170; cultural efflor-
escence, 244; local grouping, 167;
magical power, 376; totemism, 202
INDEX
438
Joint family: 148
Joking relationship: 137-8
Junior levirate: 143
Jurisprudence: 30
Kababish: 39
Kaberry, P. M.: 106, 163, 216-17, 355
Kalmuck: 63
Kamehameha 1 : 73
Kano a paito: 120, 150
Karadjeri: xi, xiii-xiv, 76-105; avoid-
ance, 137 n.\ kinship terminology,
122-4; mythology, 88-95; myths and
ceremonies, 374
Kariera: 75
Kava: 251
Kayak: 47-8
Kayan: 71
Kazak: 63-5, 118; references on, 105
Kcde: 408
Keesing, F. M.: 30, 105
Keith, A. : 396 n.
Kikuyu: 225
Kindred: 117, 149
Kinsfolk, rdle of: in education, 182; in
initiation, 178; in marriage, 173
Kinship: 107-63, 263, 273; and political
organization, 199; and rank in Tonga,
193 ^ 8 ; Australian, 75, 245 a.; Aus-
tralian, and cultural efflorescence, 244;
definition, in; extended, 144-53;
fictional, 126; Karadjeri, 76, 78-9;
orthography of, 1 08 ; references on, 1 62-
3; rights, obligations and restrictions,
128-38
Kirghiz: 63
Koryak: 63
Krige, J. D. : 286
Kroeber, A. L.: 59
Kudayuri flying canoe, myth of, 370-2
Kula: xiii, 74, 241, 272-3, 275, 284; des-
cribed, 279-82; magical practices con-
nected with, 361; myth connected
with, 370-2
Kuper, H. : 58, 392
Land, inheritance of: 1 19
Land tenure: 287-318; and native ad-
ministration, 288-9; an d religion, 298-
9; Nyakyusa, 300-1 1 ; Wogeo, 290-9
Lang, A.: 391
Language: 20, 229, 245, 358; and social
conformity, 327; compulsive power, 378
Law: 188, 232, 319-55; references on,
355; see also Legal aspect of culture
Lazy gods: 372-3
Leadership: 230-1
League of the Iroquois: 6, 52-6
Legal aspect of culture: 18, 21 ; legal in-
stitutions of the Hehe, 1 93 ; legal sanc-
tions for land tenure, 280; see also Law
Lepchas: 6, 65
Lesser, A. : 255
Levirate: 143-4; Nuer, 158
L£vy-Bruhl, L.: 388, 391
Lex talioms : 340, 351
Life cycle of the individual: ix, 254;
nutritional aspect, 259-66
Lineage: 144-51
Little, K. L.: 217-18
Lobola: xiii, 37, 120, 129, 140, 261-2, 265,
271, 274, 285, 301, 307, 341-3
Local organization: 164-8; Australian,
80; Karadjeri, 78-80; references on,
216-17
Long houses: Iroquois, 53, 167; Kayan,
7 «
Lowie, R. H.: 162, 216, 218, 255, 283,
286, 316 n., 355, 391
Macleod, W. C.: 217
Magic: types of. 368; and the Kula, 282;
mythological validation of, 371 ; see also
Magico-religious aspect of culture
Magicians: 48, 52, 365
Magico-religious aspect of culture and
phenomena: 18, 356-92, 397-8; Afri-
can agriculture, 39; food, 258; and
land tenure, 288; and political organi-
zation, 190; and production, 269; con-
secratory aspect, 369; Eskimo, 51;
kinds of magic, 364, 368; prophylactic
aspect, 369; references on, 391-2;
ritual, 377-80; social and individual
significance, 374-7; social sanctions,
325-6; system, 253; validation,
380-90; see also Religion
Mair, L. P.: 30, 58, 318
Maize: 41, 43
Malaita: 25, 106; political organization,
74 , 199
Malays: 70-1
Malaysia: 69-71; local grouping, 167;
references on, 105
Malekula: 106
Malinowski, B.: ix, 30, 73-4, 106, 132-3,
163, 216, 237, 255, 286, 317, 355,
392; on the classincatory system, 131;
on myth, 374; on ownership in Mela-
nesia, 283; on the place of social
anthropology in modern culture, 402-
3; on primitive law, 352; on religion
and magic, 361-2; on the tonal index,
125; on Trobriand gardening, 268-9
Mana: 376
Manam: 106
Mangaia : warfare in, 396
Mangu : 382
Manihiki and Rakahanga: absence of
warfare, 396
Manioc: 39, 41, 44
Manito : 376
INDEX
439
Manus: adoption in, 226
Maori: 117, 151, 172; attitudes towards
work, 268; clothing, 73; pa , 217; pro-
verbs, 268, 314; villages, 167-8
Marett, R. R.: 29, 391
Marquesas: cicisbeism, 115
Marriage: 172-4; Australia, 75; Bantu,
34 1 -3; by capture, 142; Chin, 69;
Karadjeri, 78-9, 103; Nucr, 157-60;
Nyakyusa, 303-6 ; observances, 1 39-44 ;
preferential, 142-3; Semang, 70; Tun-
gus, 62; Wogeo, 337-8; see also Family,
Kinship, Lobola , Polygamy
Masai: 37-8; age-grades, 176
Material culture and material sub-
stratum: ix, 4-5, 19-20, 240, 266, 287;
Eskimo, 47-8; Polynesia, 73
Matriarchal, matriarch ate: 117, 171
Matrilateral cross-cousin marriage: 143
Matrilineal descent: 116-17, 120
Matri local marriage: 120
Maximal lineage: 145
Maya: 41
Mead, M.: 105, 217, 286
Medical science: 226
Medicine men: 365; Karadjeri, 81-2
Meek, C. K. : 355
Melanesia: 71-4, 275, 409; bride-price,
139; local grouping, 167; mana , 376;
references on, 105, 216; secret societies,
207-9; sorcery in, 364; women in, 171
Mende: 112, 217; cicisbeism, 115; secret
societies, 210-1 1
Micronesia: 71, 409
Midedi feast: 80, 103-5
Migrations: 245
Minimal lineage: 145
Missionaries: 12; value of social anthro-
pology to, 10
Mithan: 68
Modem communities, application of
anthropological methods to: ix-x, 6 n.
Mohammedanism: Kazak, 64-5
Mohawk: 52-4
Moieties: 148; Iroquois, 53; Wogeo,
74
Moiety totemism: 205
Money: 267
Monogamy: 111
Morant, G. M.: 29
Morgan, L.: 162, 266, 315
Mortuary ritual: 377-8
Mother-in-law avoidance: 137
Mother right: 1 1 7
Motives: 239
Muller, M.: on primitive religion, 358,
360
Mummification: 378
Murder: Iroquois, 56; see also Homicide,
Law
Murdock, G. P.: 58, 105-6, 217-18
Murngin: 75, 106
Museums: xiii, 268
Musk ox: 46
Mythology and myths: xiv, 369-74, 388;
Iroquois, 55; Karadjeri, 88-95; Kola,
370-2; of the origin of death, 373
Nadel, S. F.: 30, 58, 163, 217-18, 318,
392; comparative study of the Nuba,
24
Nagas: 25, 66-7
Nalgoo: 78
Natchez: 217, 247; political organiza-
tion, 198-9; warfare, 396
Naturism: 358
Nayar polyandry: 1 12 «.
Needs: 219-55; derived, 16, 227-32;
integrative, 16, 232-6; primary, 15,
219, 221-7; relation to modern prob-
lems, 403 ; theory of, ix
Negative sanctions: 325
Negro languages: 33
Neolithic age: 3
New Britain: secret societies, 208-9
New Guinea: 71, 166
New World: 31 ; food areas, 41-5
Ngonde: political organization, 199-200
Ngwane-inoto : 74
Noble savage: 393
Nomadism: 165; Chcnchu, 66; Kazak,
64
Normative aspect of culture: 20
Normative system: 248, 254
Norms: 239
North America: 40; food areas, 41-4
North West Coast: 43, 202, 287
Nuba: 24, 410; food-getting, 40
Nuer: age-grades, 176; cattle, 37-8;
family, 157-60, 247; initiation, 177;
political organization, 199
Nupe: 165, 410
Nutrition: 221-2, 256-67; references on,
286
Nyakyusa: land tenure, 300-11; local
organization, 165
Oberg, K. : 286
Oloa : 141, 270
Omaha: 44; magical power, 376
Omarakana: 167
Oneida: 52-4
Onondaga: 52, 54
Ontong Java: 71-3; magico-religious
beliefs, 397
Opposition: 138
Oracles: Azande, 383-7
Orenda: 376
Oro: 213
Ortho-cousins: 128
Ownership: 282-7; Tungus, 61-2; see
also Land tenure, Property
INDEX
440
Pa: 167-8
Pacific: 31-2, 105; primitive cultures of,
71-4
Pain: 178
Palaeolithic age: 3
Parallel-cousins: 128
Parallelism: 27
Pastoralists : African, 37-9; central Asia,
63; land tenure, 290
Paternity: see Family
Patriarchal: 117
Patrilateral cross-cousin marriage: 143
Patrilineal descent: 116, 120
Patrilocal marriage: 120
Patterns of culture: 24
Paviosto: 44, 283; political organization,
199
Pawnee: 44, 54
Pemmican: 44
Peristiany, J. G.: 58
Personnel: of an institution, 240
Philippines: local grouping, 167
Photographs: xii
Phratry: 147-8
Physical anthropology: 1-2, 30, 219, 398
Pidgin English: 127
Pigs: in the Pacific, 73
Pirmal: 81, 103-5
Pirrauru ceremony : 1 1 5
Plains Indian culture area: 23, 44, 410
Play: 234; and education, 180-1
Ploughs: in Africa, 39
Political organization: 18, 189-200;
Australia, 75; Eskimo, 48; Hehc, 190-
3; Iroquois, 52-6; Natchez, 198-9;
references on, 217; systems, 231;
Tonga, 193-8; women and, 170; see
also Chiefs, Law
Polyandry: 1 12-15, 225-6, 247; Toda, 66
Polydactyly: 247
Polygamous households: Bantu, 260-3
Polygamy: 1 1 1-12, 1 14; and the status of
women, 174
Polynesia: 71-3, 136, 170; gods, 372;
mana, 376; political organization, 190;
references on, 105, 216; religion, 392;
warfare, 396
Poro: 1 71, 210-11; legendary accounts of
origin, 374
Positive sanctions: 325
Podatch: xiii, 25, 43, 275, 284; and cul-
tural efflorescence, 244; Haida, 56-8
Pottery: 170
Pound, R.: 351-2
Powdermaker, H.: 216
Preferential marriage: 142-3
Prehistoric archaeology: 3, 27, 30
Pre-logical mentality: 356, 388, 391
Preponent cultural responses: 247
Priests: 365
Primates: 219, 227
Primitive communism: 267, 271-2,
282-6, 287-318, 416-19
Primitive cultures: Asia, 60-9; character-
istics of, 5—6; functional approach to,
14-17; history of, 26-9; Pacific, 71-4;
variety of, 31-3
Primitive economics: 266-86
Primitive education: 175-89
Primitive law: 319-55
Primitive promiscuity: 315
Primogeniture: 118
Principle of legitimacy : 154 a.
Principle of reciprocity: see Reciprocity
Pritchard, K. S.: 289 n.
Production: 267-70
Pronunciation of native terms: see
Spelling
Propaganda: 378
Property : 282 n . ; Bantu laws regarding,
344; see also Ownership, Land tenure
Psychiatry: 226 n.
Psychic powers: 401
Psychological conllict: 187-8
Psychology: ix, 30, 247; of mortuary
ritual, 377
Public opinion: 173, 325-6
Pueblos: 410
Punishment : in primitive education, 181-
2; theories of, 326-7
Pygmies: Belgian Congo, 36-7
Race: 1-2, 29; and culture, 398-9
Radcliffe-Brown, A. R.: ix, 105, 106,
162-3, 216-17, 255, 355, 392; on
Australian kinship, 24, 30; on avoid-
ance and the joking relationship, 138;
on the definition of primitive law, 351 ;
on political organization in Tonga,
193-8; on punishment, 327; on ritual,
369 ; on totemism, 204
Rain-making: 39
Rasmussen, K. : 47
Raum, O.: 163, 217; on punishment of
children, 181
Reciprocal kinship terms: 127
Reciprocity: in marriage, 173-4; prin-
ciple of, 271-5; in religion, 381
Recreation: 19, 233-4, 248, 249-55
Reddis: 65
Reindeer: 60-3
Religion: and human welfare, 390-1 ; and
land tenure, 298-9, 301 ; and magic,
cultural function, 366-9; and magic,
ethical implications, 380; and magic,
Karadjeri, 81-2; Chin, 69; early
theories of, 356; see also Magico-
religious
Reproduction: 225-6
Residence: 119-20
Richards, A. I.: 30, 58, 163, 172, 286,
318; on Bantu nutrition, 24, 30, 259-66
INDEX
Ritual: and production, 269; see also
Magi co-religious
Rivers, W. H. R.: 105, 108 n. % 162; on
ownership in Melanesia, 283; on prim-
itive communism, 315
Robertson Smith, W.: 391
Rossel Island : monetary system, 276-7
Sacrifices: 39
Sahara: 37
Sakai: 70-1
Salmon area: 43
Samoa: attitude towards death, 186;
carpenters, 270; education, 1 81 ; fono t
380 n .; marriage, 141, 270; punish-
ment, 259; soa % 215
Samoyeds: 62
Sanctions: 232, 324-8, 336
Sande: 210 n.
Satirical song contests: Eskimo, 49
Schapera, I.: 58, 216, 286, 355; on Bantu
law, 24, 30, 338-51
Science, pure and applied : 8-9
Scotland: clan, 146; marriage, 160 rt.
Seasonal cycle: Eskimo, 45-6, 51 ; Kazak,
64; ritual, 381 ; Tungus, 61
Secret societies: 56, 207- ig
Sections: Australia, 79
Sedna: myth of, 49-50: ritual expulsion
of 52
Segmented societies: 199-200
Seligman, C. G. t and B. Z.: 58, 216
Semang: 70-1
Semitic languages: Africa, 33
Seneca: 52, 54, 202; totemism, 205
Sept: 146
Sex: 224-6; education, 186; equality,
182 n.; hunger and, 256-7; grouping,
169—75; control of, 134-5;
taboos, 379; totemism, 203
Shamans: 171, 365
Shapiro, H. L. : on race, 398 «.
Shifting cultivation: 166; Africa, 39;
Baiga, 65
Sib: 146-7
Sibling: 127
Sierra Leone: secret societies, 210-11
Sister exchange: 140; Tungus, 62
Slavery: 394
Smith, A. : 266
Smith, E.: see Elliot Smith, G.
Snow goggles: 47
Soa: 214-15
Social anthropology: 3; aims of, 7-10;
method of, 10-14; and modern culture,
402-3
Social conformity: 319
Social culture: 4
Social groupings: integration of, 215-16;
types, 107-8; see also Social organiza-
tion
44 *
Social organization: 20, 107-218, 254;
references on, 162-3, 216-18
Social problems: anthropology and, 9-10
Social status: 189-200; Haida, 57
Social structure: 107, 162
Societies: secret, 207-19; segmented,
199-200
Society Islands: arioi , 211-13; discarding
of gods, 381; warfare, 396
Socio-religious parallelism: 378
Solidarity: 138
Somatology: 1
Sorcery; 245 a., 364-5; Azande, 386;
Bantu, 346; Melanesia, 74
Sororate: 143-4
South Africa: 31, 36
South America: 40
Specific initiation ceremonies: 175 n
Speech: 221
Spelling and pronunciation: xiv-xv
Spencer, B., and Gillen, F. J.: 106
Spencer, H. : 356-7, 359
Stanner, W. E. H.: 286
Stevenson, H. N. C.: 105, 217, 286
Steward, J. H.: 59, 216
Stibbc, E. P. : 30, 255
Stratified societies: 190-9
Strehlow, T. G. H.: 106, 392
Structural school of social anthropology:
255
Subincision: 177; Karadjeri, 102
Subsections: 79
Sub- tribes: 165
Succession: 117-18
Suicide: 133, 135, 326
Sukwe : 207-8
Supercision, superincision: 177
Superstition: 397
Swahili .*411
Swanton, J. R.: 59, 198, 217
Syndactyly: 247
Taboos: 261, 281, 378-80, 388; Eskimo,
48, 50-1; food, 258; initiation, 178;
and morality, 380; sexual, 379
Tahiti : cicisbeism, 1 15
Tallensi: 187, 41 1 ; educational develop-
ment, 184; lineage, 145; political
organization, 199
Tamate : 207-8
Tdpu: 378
Tasmanians: 7
Tayo : 115
Tchambuli: 247
Technology: 4, 244 a., 268; mytho-
logical validation of, 371
Teknonymy: 127
Telepathy: 401
Te Rangi Hiroa : see Buck, P. H.
Terms: of address and reference, 126;
native, xiii-xiv
442
INDEX
Theft: Bantu, 343; Wogeo, 333-5
Thumwald, H.: 217
Thurnwald, R.: 286
Tibetan polyandry: 112 n.
Tierra del Fuego: 41, 45
Tikopia: 32, 71-3, 120; bond friendship,
214-15; clan, 146; dart match, 249-
54, 381; fonoy 380; infanticide, 394;
kano a paito y 150; kinship terms, 124;
myth of totemism, 372; terms of sib-
lings, 127; totemism, 201-2, 205; war-
fare absent, 396
Tjurunga: 119
Tobacco society : 171, 209-10, 215, 270
Todas: 66, 105, 226, 258; bow and arrow
ceremony, 1 1 3- 1 4 ; polyandry, 1 1 2- 1 4
Tonga: 141, 270
Tonga: 217, 412; aristocracy, 215; fono
380; political organization, 193-8
Tomait: 52
Totemism: 200-6, 379; Australia, 389;
Haida, 57; Iroquois, 53; Karadjeri,
82-91 ; linked, multiple, 200; references
on, 218; Tikopia, 372
Trade guilds: 270
Traits: see Culture traits
Trees: ownership among the Nyakyusa,
310-11
Tnbes: Australian, 164; Chin, 67; defi-
nition, 164; Iroquois, 54; Kazak, 64;
Tungus, 61
Trobriand Islands: 73-4, 105-6, 119,
225, 268; clan incest, 132-3; cross-
cousin marriage, 155 n.; famine, 257-8;
Kula, 279-82; local grouping, 167;
garden magic, 367-9; magic, 392;
ownership of canoes, 283-4; paternity,
154-6; patrilocal marriage, 120; poly-
gyny, ill
Tsetse fly: 37, 39
Tuareg: 38-9
Tungus: 60-2, 139, 141, 266, 412
Tteri: 62
Tuscarora: 52 «.
Twins: killing of, among the Bantu: 345,
395
Tylor, E. B.: 356-7, 360, 374, 391
Ultimogeniture: 118
Umiak : 47
Unilateral descent: 117
Urigubu: m
Uxori local marriage: 12011.
Vaygu'a : 279
Vendetta: 322
Verbal ritual: 378
Virilocal marriage: 120 n.
Voluntary associations: see Associations
Wakang, wakonda: 376
Warfare: 169-70, 395-7; Iroquois, 54-6;
and local grouping, 167; Polynesia,
73, 396; and segmented societies, 199
Warner, W. L.: 106, 163
Wealth: and rank, 189-90; see also Econ-
omics, Ownership
Weaning: 261-2
W'ebster, H.: 392
Wedgwood, C. H. : 106, 217
Weeping: 377
Whales: 47
Wife-lending: 112, 114-15, 225; Eskimo,
48-9 ; see also Cicisbeism
Wild seeds : area, 43-4
Williamson, R. W. : 218
Wilson, G.: 58, 217, 318, 355; on Nyak-
yusa land tenure, 300-11; on primi-
tive law, 352
Wissler, C.: 59, 216; on Amerindian cul-
tures, 41 ; on culture areas and com-
plexes, 22 -3, 30
Witchcraft: 364-5, 388, 397; Azande,
382-7; Nyakyusa, 307-8
Witch doctor: 365
Wogeo: 74, 106, 412; land tenure, 290-
300; law and custom, 328-38; local
grouping, 167; moieties, 74; political
organization, 199
Woman marriage: 158 a., 175
Women : position and status, 52, 169-75,
182 217, 285
Yako: double unilateral descent, 151 — 3;
secret societies, 215
Yakuts: 62-3
Yokuts: 44
Yoruba: 33
Yukaghir: 26, 63
Zuckerman, S. : 315
Zulu : 240, 373
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